Reading History With the Tamil Jainas: A Study on Identity, Memory and Marginalisation: 22 [1st ed. 2017] 8132237552, 9788132237556

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Sophia Studies in Cross-cultural Philosophy of Traditions and Cultures 22

R. Umamaheshwari

Reading History with the Tamil Jainas A Study on Identity, Memory and Marginalisation

Sophia Studies in Cross-cultural Philosophy of Traditions and Cultures Volume 22

Series Editors Editor-in-Chief Purushottama Bilimoria, The University of Melbourne, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia University of California, Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley, CA, USA Co-Editor Andrew B. Irvine, Maryville College, Maryville, TN, USA Associate Editors Jay Garfield, The University of Melbourne, Australia Smith College, Northampton, Mass, USA Editorial Assistants Sherah Bloor, Amy Rayner, Peter Yih Jing Wong The University of Melbourne, Australia Editorial Board Balbinder Bhogal, Hofstra University, Hempstead, USA Christopher Chapple, Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles, USA Vrinda Dalmiya, University of Hawaii at Manoa, Honolulu, USA Gavin Flood, NUS-Yale, Singapore Jessica Frazier, University of Kent, Canterbury, UK Kathleen Higgins, University of Texas at Austin, Austin, USA Patrick Hutchings, Deakin University, The University of Melbourne, Australia Morny Joy, University of Calgary, Calgary, Canada Carool Kersten, King’s College, London, UK Richard King, University of Kent, Canterbury, UK Arvind-Pal Mandair, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, USA Rekha Nath, University of Alabama, Tuscaloosa, USA Parimal Patil, Harvard University, Cambridge, USA Laurie Patton, Middlebury College, Middlebury, Vermont, USA Stephen Phillips, University of Texas at Austin, Austin, USA Joseph Prabhu, California State University, Los Angeles, USA Anupama Rao, Columbia University, Barnard College, New York, USA Anand J. Vaidya, San Jose State University, CA, USA

The Sophia Studies in Cross-cultural Philosophy of Traditions and Cultures focuses on the broader aspects of philosophy and traditional intellectual patterns of religion and cultures. The series encompasses global traditions, and critical treatments that draw from cognate disciplines, inclusive of feminist, postmodern, and postcolonial approaches. By global traditions we mean religions and cultures that go from Asia to the Middle East to Africa and the Americas, including indigenous traditions in places such as Oceania. Of course this does not leave out good and suitable work in Western traditions where the analytical or conceptual treatment engages Continental (European) or Cross-cultural traditions in addition to the Judeo-Christian tradition. The book series invites innovative scholarship that takes up newer challenges and makes original contributions to the field of knowledge in areas that have hitherto not received such dedicated treatment. For example, rather than rehearsing the same old Ontological Argument in the conventional way, the series would be interested in innovative ways of conceiving the erstwhile concerns while also bringing new sets of questions and responses, methodologically also from more imaginative and critical sources of thinking. Work going on in the forefront of the frontiers of science and religion beaconing a well-nuanced philosophical response that may even extend its boundaries beyond the confines of this debate in the West – e.g. from the perspective of the ‘Third World’ and the impact of this interface (or clash) on other cultures, their economy, sociality, and ecological challenges facing them – will be highly valued by readers of this series. All books to be published in this Series will be fully peer-reviewed before final acceptance. More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/8880

R. Umamaheshwari

Reading History with the Tamil Jainas A Study on Identity, Memory and Marginalisation

R. Umamaheshwari Indian Institute of Advanced Study Shimla, Himachal Pradesh, India

ISSN 2211-1107     ISSN 2211-1115 (electronic) Sophia Studies in Cross-cultural Philosophy of Traditions and Cultures ISBN 978-81-322-3755-6    ISBN 978-81-322-3756-3 (eBook) DOI 10.1007/978-81-322-3756-3 Library of Congress Control Number: 2017948871 © Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla 2017 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Printed on acid-free paper This Springer imprint is published by Springer Nature The registered company is Springer (India) Pvt. Ltd. The registered company address is: 7th Floor, Vijaya Building, 17 Barakhamba Road, New Delhi 110 001, India

For appaji, Rajamani, and amma, Ramani (In loving memory)

Foreword

This book is the first of its kind on a work that seeks to write the history of a minority community of the Tamil Jainas. It is heavily based on ethnographic material and hitherto uncovered aspects of the Tamil Jaina community’s idea of its own historical past and a present state of being hidden from most mainstream accounts on Tamil history. That there is a community called the Tamil Jainas is known to very few people, in general, and historians, in particular. Only recently, a few scholars have begun to explore Tamil Nadu and the Jainas therein. This work will add volume to this small creed. Umamaheshwari sets the tone and tenor for the book by starting with Kundera’s words on memory and forgetting. It is important for history not to forget some communities and sections of people and some regions that have existed in oblivion for various reasons, social and economic and political. She seeks to understand the Tamil Jaina social history from the present backwards, and that leads her away from the mainstream narratives of history writing. She avoids heavy dependence on inscriptional records, descriptive narratives of Jaina iconography, temple and ­architecture, and while there is an entire chapter in her book that does deal with epigraphs, she suitably alters the reading of epigraphs by adding people’s accounts of their pasts within the same, thereby creating new avenues for understanding the past, as being something that constantly dialogues with the present. The community accounts in the same chapter focus on stories of villages, on the place of the village in the larger Tamil Jaina history and on everyday practices of people as retold to her during her field study. Having gone through her doctoral dissertation on the same subject many years ago, I know that what comes forth in this book, is a lot of new material, which include the highlighting of a few developments in the community’s assertion of its identity, through ideas such as the Green/Ahimsa walk; the ‘north’-‘south’ understanding of what it means to be a Jaina, ritual practices, for instance; and references to works of scholars who have, in recent years, brought into focus the Digambara tradition of South India, thereby filling a major lacuna in Jaina studies all these years. Some of the community stories of persecution and memories of it would be relatively new for many readers. vii

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There is yet another fascinating element in the book, which would also add some newness to the understanding of the Tamil Jainas, and that is the detailed sociological and historical analysis and discussion on the Tamil language. Here, she excels in producing some aspects based on both conversations with community members and a critique of some of the historiography which has relegated the Jaina (as well as Buddhist) contribution to Tamil language and literature to the background, successfully over the last many decades. She makes a note of the relatively better understanding of the same in the Tamil books and scholarship, when compared to the English works that have been published in recent years. It is fascinating to find the past and present juxtaposed even here when Santhakumar, the Cintamani Navalar, the orator of the text, and his story, occur alongside that of U. V. Swaminatha Aiyer’s own connection with the Cīvakacintāmaṇi, which he edited and printed in the nineteenth century. The important connection is made between reading a text ‘outside’ the community and reading it ‘with’ or ‘within’, which is a case in point, which U. Ve. Ca’s story, as Umamaheshwari rightly points out, brings forth for us. U.Ve. Ca’s understanding of this text would not be complete without the involvement of the Tamil Jainas of his time, who supported him, and helped in the printing and publication of the same. And his story comes to the author through a Tamil Jaina of the present, Santhakumar. There are several layers to this book, and each one is important in itself, as a standalone account, and I am sure the work will be a useful volume to adorn the shelves of studies not just on Jainism but also on understanding minorities and marginalisation. Not to forget, the photographs themselves are fascinating as they give one a glimpse into the everyday lives of a community as well as the ancient monumental glory of a tradition that has managed to survive in the face of extreme persecution and suppression, while the Buddhist could not. There are, happily, an increasing number of scholars working on Jainism in Tamil Nadu, but there is hardly someone I know of who has held on to the subject and the issue for so many years, which urges me to give the book its due credit as a pioneering work. Department of South and South East Asian Studies, University of California, Berkeley, Berkeley, CA, USA

Padmanabh S. Jaini

Preface

My prefatory comments have to do with the people and experiences that have helped me reach a stage to be able to share this, my truly long-term engagement, with the world. I dedicate this work to my parents. Appaji supported me throughout with a rare excitement of a child and genuine interest in whatever I ever did towards the subject of my choice, history, travelling with me on field and library visits during my MPhil days, copying notes from inscriptional records he had never seen in life before. Seeing me complete my PhD was a desire he cherished but never lived to see, not even my synopsis, which got confirmed just days before he passed on. And amma became my ‘rock support’ after he passed away, not just following up on the interest in my work, but reading voraciously all the books the Tamil Jainas gave me to read, even before I laid hands on them and hand-writing for me entire books (in Tamil, borrowed from people) in trying times. Besides being my mother, she was my reader (of all the Tamil books and inscriptions at a time when I was only learning the language), translator and fellow seeker (of her own accord) into the world of Tamil Jainism, in particular, and Indian history and the world of stories, in general. She, too, did not live to see my PhD thesis, and following her demise, it had taken a true rollercoaster ride between my completing the thesis, submission and being awarded a doctorate. This book is based, to a large extent, on my PhD thesis, and I am glad it took so long before I found it worthwhile to let it get a book shape. So I acknowledge the people who had been with me and whose support made my PhD happen, without which, obviously, this book would not have been. But before that I must say that even during the period of my PhD, life took me (or I took myself) through various places and in fact to half quitting it all—through the mountains of Kumaun, villages in the Deccan, deaths and pain at home and outside, the Tsunami-hit villages in Tamil Nadu, the river Godavari in Andhra PradeshTelangana, etc. Each of these experiences enriched and helped me frame the questions that I did and to understand diverse ways in which people look at themselves and their pasts and the ways they engage with religion. I am thankful for those experiences. Finally, this work found fruition in the mountains of Himachal Pradesh and Shimla. ix

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In the course of my journalism and looking for support for the Tamil Jaina work, I found a small advertisement in the Economic and Political Weekly many years ago from the Sunya Foundation in Ahmedabad, to which I applied and whose support helped me resume work on my PhD research on the Tamil Jaina history. I thank the Sunya Foundation for the grant (which was truly big for me at that point) with which I got my first ever desktop PC in life and the much-needed financial support for fieldwork in the Tamil Jaina villages and library work elsewhere, not to mention the support for my livelihood as freelance journalist. I thank Mr. Sivakumar of the Sunya Foundation (though so many years have passed since), who used to correspond with me in those days. Imagine the twist of fate that the first grant to work on the Jaina research came from a ‘Sunya’! A temporary teaching position at Stella Maris College for Women, Chennai, was in no small ways helpful, since I met a student (who later became a friend), Radha Kumar, and, through her, the family of Mr. Jinadas (Tindivanam), whose daughter Viji in Chennai directed me to some names in the Tamil Jaina villages. Sometimes, diverse roads lead to one destination. Wherever she may be today, Ms. Jyothi Nambiar (who was then a PhD research scholar at the University of Madras) deserves thanks for having written down for me the names of Tamil Jaina villages in South Arcot, when I was just beginning to explore. I sincerely thank Prof. Padmanabh Jaini, Dr. Peter Flugel and Prof. Rajan Gurukkal, for their encouragement always and positive feedback at different times. Prof. Paul Dundas and Dr. Palaniappan have given very valuable suggestions on previous drafts of this work which I have tried to incorporate, wherever possible. I thank everybody at Springer and their associates (including the editorial and production teams and Shinjini and Priya), for being exacting, and also truly patient and for having sent the draft of my manuscript through an excellent review process which has truly helped. I thank all the following individuals and institutions with whose support (direct and indirect) I managed to find unique sources to work with: Iravatham Mahadevan; Theodore Bhaskaran; the Roja Muthiah Research Library; the Indian Council of Historical Research; Sahitya Akademi Library, Delhi; Jawaharlal Nehru University Library (especially Mr. Mullick); the staff of the Government Oriental Manuscripts Library in Chennai, including Dr. Sundara Pandian (who had helped me with reading some of the material and helped me access them, back in 2003); the staff of the Archaeological Survey of India (Fort St. George); International Institute of Tamil Studies (Taramani); the staff of the U. V. Swaminatha Aiyer Library, Adyar, Chennai; the Madras Institute of Development Studies (Chennai); the National Institute of Prakrit Studies and Research, Shravanabelgola; the Nehru Memorial Trust for the Indian Collections at the Victoria and Albert Museum (New Delhi), especially Mr. Piplani (then Secretary); the V&A Museum (Asia Collections), London, especially, Rosemary Crill, Beth Mckillop, Nick Barnard and Melissa Appel. Prof. Romila Thapar was somewhere responsible for my getting the Jain Art Fund UK Visiting Fellowship at the V&A Museum (2008-09). I am grateful for that. In the past, Prof. Suvira Jaiswal gave me inputs to strengthen my arguments. I also thank Prof. B.  D. Chattopadhyaya and his wife, who stayed at the Indian Institute of Advanced Study (IIAS), Shimla, during my tenure as a Fellow.

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I express my deep sense of gratitude to all the Tamil Jainas I met in the villages and towns of Tamil Nadu, who housed me, talked to me and told me stories after stories giving me so much of their time. Though I cannot name all of them here, I would still like to mention a few people who encouraged me with gifts of books and articles (in that true Jaina sastra dana tradition) and gave my research a direction as well. I thank the Mathatipati of Jinakanci matham at Cittamur, Svasti Sri Laksmi Sena Bhattaraka Bhattacharya avarkal, Mr. Appandai Nainar-Sunanda (Karandai both passed away in year 2017), Mr. Aruhakirti (Tiruppanamur), Mr. Jayankondan, Mr. S.  Bahubali (Tiruppanamur-Kanchipuram), Mr. Vijayabalan, the late Mr. Santhakumar Jain ‘Cintamani Navalar’, Mr. Jinadas (Tindivanam), Sripall (former DGP, Chennai), Mr. V.  C. Sreepalan (Chennai), Anantharaj Jain (Vandavasi/ Kottayam), Mr. Aravazhi (Vandavasi) and the Madurai Jain Heritage Centre, Mr. Samudravijayan, the late Gandharvai paati, Priya, Rani, Sundari, Sukumara Panditar (among others at Cittamur), the late Vrushabha Das, Viji, Mr. Jaya Vijayan (at Chennai), Vijaya ‘teacher’ (Arani), Sri Dhavalakirti (Tirumalai), Siva Adinath (Ponnurmalai), Prof. Devadatta (Chennai), the late Agastiappa Nayinar, Neelakesi and Sentamarai ammal (Kanchipuram), Mekala-Kumar (Cenji), A. Chinnathurai (Madurai Jain Heritage Centre), Parsuvanathan (and his father at Tiruparuttikunram) and Kosapalayam Chandravadani paati, among a host of others. In essence, I thank all the Tamil Jainas in all the places that I visited, some of which were Vembakkam, Tiruparuttikkunram, Tindivanam, Cenji, Melcittamur, Perumpukai, Vilukkam, Peramandur, Kiledaiyalam, Arani, Mottur, Tirupparambur-Karandai, Kancipuram, Vandavasi, Salukkai, Jambai, Tirumalai, Arpakkam, Chennai, Tirunarungondai and Mamandur, among others. I thank my siblings and their partners, Viji-Balasundaram and Balu-Lopa, and especially, my nephews—Siddharth, Karthik and Sai Shashank (Golu)—whose role in the background has been truly rewarding, correspondent to their growing up into young/adults. I am grateful also to a few people (in the past and present) who supported me in their own ways, specifically with regard to this work—P. Sainath, Radhika-Tushar, Susan, Tanuja, Safa, Kavita Datla, Sudheesh, Shailaja (Machnur), Ramesh, Rajesh, Tulja Bai, Chaman Singh (late), Seshadri-Ambujavally, Jaya, Udayaluxmi, Runa (Shimla). I now come to the institution which has supported not just me but an entire range of scholars across generations since its inception (conception) in 1965: the Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla. For an independent scholar such as me, Fellowship at an institution such as this has been of great help in terms of both resources and a space of freedom to read, write, think or simply just walk around in peace taking in the mountain air, hear the birds sing and learn to accept the ways of the wild langurs and monkeys. I thank all my Fellow colleagues (and contemporaries and those who joined later), Visiting Scholars and Associates at the institute for lively conversations, many laughs and shared meals, besides interjections at seminars. But I must specially thank a few—Sushila-Malem N. Meitei and little Wokhaloi, K. Rajeev, Prof. Bettina Bäumer, Deepa Sharma, Prof. Achyuthan, Tadd Fernée, Sunera Thobani and

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Bharati. Saumya, Kaustav and I shared a beautiful camaraderie and occasional meals as neighbour-friends at the Courteen Hall cluster of homes, with rich bird and animal life and an ‘unlit’ streetlight. I am grateful to IIAS also for giving space to me and Malli, my forever companion, with whose help one learnt of a different kind of love in the world of animals (with her friends, Bruny, Pilloo, Sheru, Munni, etc.). Shimla and the extended campus of IIAS have also shown me what it is to allow space for these souls also to thrive in the midst of humanity, with street dogs adopted and cared for by the community (not an individual alone) and given names, love and food. Incidentally, within the context of Jaina ethics, perhaps, love of these kinds are not just understood but encouraged. I thank Prof. Chetan Singh (then director of IIAS, when I was a Fellow) and the entire staff and workers of IIAS, without whose never-ending legwork and file-work, Fellows like us would not find the space to do what we are expected to do—‘give a manuscript’. Though all names cannot find space here, I would still like to make special mention of a few whose help was invaluable: Uma Dutt ji (since retired), Ram Singh ji, Devender, Chandrakala, Ramesh ji, Narayan Das ji, Mr. Prem Chand and his library staff (Pushpa, Prachi, Nivedita, Rupinder, Varun, Pradeep, Pushplal), Mr. Meher Singh, Baliram ji, Padamdev ji, Kulbhushan ji, Rajesh ji, Halkuram ji-Lata, Aman ji, Vandana, Mr. Kamal Sharma, Promila and Ashok (and later Ms. Renu Bala) and the Mess/Guest House—Mr. Devraj (and Jeet Ram ji, Pradeep ji, Sunil, Roshan, Mahendra, Naresh). I also thank Shiladevi ji (and family) and Bileswari ji (and her family) and all the office attendants, including Rajesh and Kundan. I thank also Mr. Anurag Sharma and his garden team for filling the house, the study and the institute with colours of all the seasons. I thank the entire estate staff—including Ms. Vijayalakshmi, the former supervisor Mr. Bharadwaj, Ms. Sharada, Dayaram ji and Bhupinder. I thank the PRO office staff and the Publications Section—Sangeeta Thapa and Devender Sharma. I thank also Mr. Rakesh and the entire accounting staff (Ranjana, Rajani, Gopal and Ramesh), the entire team at the administration (including Hemraj ji, Ramesh B, Sharada ji, Haridas ji and Arun ji) and the staff at the Fire Station Café. I thank a former secretary, Mr. Suneel Verma, who made my stay at 1, Courteen Hall ‘Annexe GF’, possible, supervising its massive repairs. I have to mention with special thanks the always welcoming (with a special word for Malli) security staff at the IIAS reception. Staying at the study during nights was possible entirely due to their reassuring presence and their genuine love for her. I thank Dayal Singh ji, Khadak Singh ji (late), Premchand ji, Ram Krishan ji, Khem Singh ji, Om Prakash ji, Narayan ji, Durga Dutt ji, Amar Singh ji, Manoj and Thomas (and Anita), among others. Beejay ji (Vijay) always fixed problems with electrical and electronic gadgets. I also thank the photographer, Mr. Vijay (Billa), who helped bring out prints from film rolls no longer used, from my Tamil Jaina field trip. I thank the entire CPWD (both electrical and civil) working staff who always fixed problems at home every single time, in rain, snow and sunshine, walking up and down the hills through the day, including weekends, for temporary residents like us to read and write. I thank my ­immediate (non-Fellow) neighbourhood

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residents who are too many to be named here, but special mention needs to be made of Kesar Singh ‘Bhagat’ ji and his wife, for their love and feeding me warm food many a times, and Mehrchand Bhatoia ji and his family. I may be excused for unintentionally missing out several names. I am also thankful to the trees and animal and bird life around the beautiful house where I completed my tenure and manuscript. Sometimes, the unexpected happens, as it did to us. Completing this book took us back to this old haunt, which was a very different experience than the first: a little reality, and many realisations. In this second coming, I need to thank a few more (besides few of the people I have already mentioned, who helped this time around, too): Jaywanti Dimri (former Fellow, IIAS), Dr. Dorje (archaeologist and Fellow at IIAS), Prof. Vijay Varma and Terry, Martin Kämpchen, Prof. Sumanyu Satpathy, Dr. Pradeep Naik, Prof. Amba Kulkarni, Pritam Thakur-Lajja, Shokiji-Anita, Amar Singhji, Saleemji, Lina Chauhan, Shivam, Sunil (Siddharth Vihar) and Tulsi. And Malli’s old canine friends (Bruny, Munni) never ever forgot to love us! I thank also Shikha and Dr. Salil for their kindnesses. A little of all of these has helped me ‘read’ and write the Tamil Jaina history. And for Malli and me, the overall experience of bringing to book form a work from a very long engagement at the IIAS and Shimla will be cherished for a lifetime. Finally, I thank the Institut d’études avancées de Nantes, France (home for the moment), for the fellowship, and space for free sharing of ideas from across cultures, continents and disciplines. Shimla, Himachal Pradesh, India

R. Umamaheshwari

Contents

1 On Reading History, and a Community.................................................. 1 1.1 Why, and How Come, Tamil Jainas?................................................ 10 1.2 Ways of Seeing, and the Title of This Book..................................... 17 1.3 Locating Oneself............................................................................... 17 1.4 Two Roads........................................................................................ 21 1.5 On ‘Community’............................................................................... 24 1.6 Method of Enquiry and Structure of This Book............................... 28 1.7 Maps: Mainstream and ‘Tamil Jaina’............................................... 31 References.................................................................................................... 35 2 Jaina Studies: A Historical Overview....................................................... 37 2.1 Jaina ‘Entry’ into the Tamil Country and Early Jaina Epigraphic Records................................................................. 37 2.2 Colonial and Oriental ‘Discovery’ of the Jainas: ‘Recovery’ of the Self....................................................................... 49 Being Jaina, ‘Legally’....................................................................... 60 ‘Recovery’ of Self?........................................................................... 62 References.................................................................................................... 80 3 Community Narratives, Inscriptional Records: A Chronicle of Journeys Through Tamil Jaina Villages.........................   83 3.1 A Prologue........................................................................................  83 3.2 Tamil Jaina Community Narratives: Records of Contemporary History..................................................................  84 3.3 Stereotypes of Jainas.........................................................................  86 3.4 The Tamil Jaina Agrarian Context....................................................  87 3.5 Tamil Jaina Villages and Historical Antiquity: Two Journeys..........  91 3.6 Kanchipuram, Tiruparuttikunram.....................................................  95 3.7 Melcittamur (Near Cenji), Villupuram (South Arcot) District: 2002–2003..........................................................................   98 3.8 Observances, Practice.......................................................................  99 3.9 Memories of Persecution.................................................................. 100 xv

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3.10 Understanding of Caste..................................................................... 100 3.11 A Story of the Malainātha Temple.................................................... 101 3.12 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 106 3.13 Tirunatharkunru (Singavaram), Cenji............................................... 106 3.14 Cittamur/Melcittamur....................................................................... 106 3.15 Melcittamur, Cenji: 2015 (Late February)........................................ 109 3.16 Cenji.................................................................................................. 110 3.17 Vilukkam, Tindivanam, South Arcot (2003), Community Narratives...................................................................... 112 3.18 Desing Rājā Times, the Cittamur Temple, the ‘72’ of Vilukkam and the Brāhmins......................................................... 114 3.19 Maṭhātipati’s Election...................................................................... 115 3.20 Sacred Circulatory Space.................................................................. 116 3.21 Rituals and ‘Samskrutam’................................................................. 116 3.22 A Persecution Story Remembered.................................................... 117 3.23 Inscriptional History......................................................................... 118 3.24 Revisit: 25 February 2015................................................................. 119 3.25 Perumpukai, Gingee Taluk, Villupuram District (Early Name, ‘Perumpokaḷ’)............................................................ 120 October 2003....................................................................................   120 3.26 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 123 3.27 Revisit: 24 February 2015................................................................. 124 3.28 Peramandur, Tindivanam Taluk, Tiruvannamalai, South Arcot: 2003............................................................................. 126 3.29 Community Narratives...................................................................... 127 3.30 Importance in the Tamil Jaina Literary Tradition............................. 127 3.31 Social Conflict Stories...................................................................... 127 3.32 Maṇṭalapuruṭar’s Story (and Links to Sanskrit/Knowledge)............ 128 3.33 A Story in the Jaina Rāmāyaṇam...................................................... 128 3.34 Revisit in 2015.................................................................................. 129 3.35 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 129 3.36 Jambai, Tirukkoilur Taluk, South Arcot............................................ 130 3.37 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 130 3.38 Tirunarungondai/Tirunaṟunkuṉṟam, Ulundurpettai, South Arcot...... 131 3.39 An Origins Story............................................................................... 132 3.40 Naṟkātci and Asserting Identity........................................................ 133 3.41 About Arcakas.................................................................................. 133 3.42 Persecution........................................................................................ 133 3.43 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 134 3.44 Tindivanam, South Arcot.................................................................. 137 3.45 Another Story.................................................................................... 137 3.46 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 138 3.47 Tirumalai, Polur Taluk, Tiruvannamalai District (North Arcot)....... 138 October 2003....................................................................................   138



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3.48 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 142 3.49 Mottur (North Arcot): October 2003................................................ 145 3.50 Pundi, Arani Taluk, North Arcot: 2003............................................. 146 3.51 A Story of Origins............................................................................ 146 3.52 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 149 3.53 Tachur and Odalavadi (2003)............................................................ 150 3.54 Odalavadi (Near Tachur)................................................................... 150 3.55 Arpakkam (2003).............................................................................. 150 3.56 Tiruppanamur/Tirupparambur, Cheyyar Taluk (Earlier Tirupparambur-­Karandai Part of the Same Village): 2003............... 153 3.57 Story of Akaḷañka and the Buddhist Debate..................................... 153 3.58 Sacred ‘Circulatory’ Space, Everyday Religion............................... 155 3.59 Caste Surnames................................................................................. 156 3.60 Karandai............................................................................................ 156 3.61 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 160 3.62 Vandavasi (Wandiwash of the Colonial Times) and Ponnur, North Arcot: 2003......................................................... 162 3.63 Inscriptional Records........................................................................ 162 3.64 Ponnurmalai: Sri Visakhācārya Taponilayam................................... 163 3.65 Revisiting the Old and Seeing the New: Year 2015.......................... 164 3.66 Vembakkam...................................................................................... 165 3.67 Nirgrantha Monk (Samaṇa Muni) Comes Visiting.......................... 166 3.68 Meeting the Digambara Nun............................................................ 167 3.69 Tiruppanamur-Karandai Revisit: Late February and Early March 2015...................................................................... 172 3.70 Meeting the Monk............................................................................. 173 3.71 Madurai............................................................................................. 178 3.72 Samanarmalai at Kilakuyilkkudi...................................................... 179 3.73 Kongarpuliyangulam........................................................................ 184 3.74 Perumalmalai.................................................................................... 187 3.75 Kilavalavu......................................................................................... 188 3.76 Some Reflections.............................................................................. 192 3.77 Historical Self-Location.................................................................... 195 3.78 Worship and Rituals.......................................................................... 197 3.79 Yakṣi Worship.................................................................................... 197 3.80 Administrative Divisions in Inscriptions.......................................... 200 3.81 A Note on Layers of History, Memory and Community’s Construction of Past............................................ 200 References....................................................................................................   203



4 ‘Retrieving’, Seeking, the Tamil Jaina Self: the Politics of Memory, Identity and Tamil Language............................................... 205 4.1 The Persecution Question: Sites of Memory, Expressions of Pain........................................................................... 208 4.2 Reminded of a Pain........................................................................... 213 4.3 A Letter to the Mahatma................................................................... 213

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4.4 The Sumaṉtān Talai Pattu Katai (Story of ‘The One Who Bore Ten Heads’).............................................................................. 215 4.5 Other Versions of the Story............................................................... 216 4.6 Ways of Understanding the Story..................................................... 218 4.7 Motifs in the Sumantāṉ Talai Pattu Story......................................... 220 4.8 The Identity Question....................................................................... 223 4.9 Persecution as a Concept: The Issues, History................................. 223 4.10 Seeking Colonial Intervention and a Twentieth Century Record................................................................................. 225 4.11 A Ritual Enactment of Persecution................................................... 228 4.12 Relocating Bhakti............................................................................. 228 4.13 The Tamil Jaina Agrarian Context in History Writing...................... 237 4.14 Texts and Identity and the Tamil Language...................................... 239 4.15 ‘Jeevabandhu’ T. S. Sripal................................................................ 240 4.16 Varying Interpretations of the Animal Sacrifice Issue...................... 247 4.17 The Caste Question........................................................................... 250 4.18 Conflicting Identities, Construction of Self: The Tamil Jaina vis-à-vis the Brāhmin and the Śaivite; the Self-­Respect Movement.............................................................. 257 4.19 The Missing Tamil Jainas: Tamil Language and Literature Discourses................................................................. 262 4.20 Authorship and Identity: Tirukkuṟaḷ and Others............................... 267 4.21 Tirukkuṟaḷ: A Contested Site/Text.................................................... 269 4.22 Brāhmaṇical Reading of Parimēlaḻakar............................................ 273 4.23 ‘Cintamani Navalar’ Leads Me to a Tamil Text................................ 274 4.24 Moments from My Encounter with a Tamil Jaina Memory and Reading U. Ve. Ca’s Autobiography.................. 276 4.25 U.Ve.Ca’s Tamil Jaina Encounter..................................................... 279 References.................................................................................................... 295 5 On Mapping the Layers of Community Histories: Some Concluding Remarks....................................................................... 299 References.................................................................................................... 304 Annexures......................................................................................................... 305 Annexure 1: Early and Present-Day Tamil Jaina Villages (and Corresponding Temples for Tīrthankaras)............................................ 305 Early Jaina Śrāvaka Settlements as Mentioned in the Epigraphs...................... 305 Annexure 2: Jain Temples, Centres in Tamil Nadu ........................................... 308 References......................................................................................................... 313 Index.................................................................................................................. 323

List of Figures

Fig. 1.1

Fig. 1.2

Fig. 1.3 Fig. 2.1 Fig. 2.2 Fig. 2.3 Fig. 2.4 Fig. 2.5 Fig. 2.6 Fig. 2.7 Fig. 2.8 Fig. 2.9

Fig. 2.10

A map showing the Tamil Jaina settlements (shaded areas) corresponding to present-day districts in Tamilnadu, where the inscriptions record their presence............................................................ 32 One of the mainstream tourist maps of Tamil Nadu, with a list of must visit places. Note the non-mention of Jaina or Buddhist or non-’Hindu’ sites. Vailankanni ‘church’, though, is now a ‘universalised’, mainstream site..................................................................... 33 Tiruvannamalai district Jaina Sites....................................... 34 Painted ceiling at the Candiranathar temple, Tiruparuttikunram (Picture Taken in year 2003).................. 66 Tirumalai rock-cut cave sculptures, as in 2003.................... 66 Mahavira carved of single stone, at Tirumalai..................... 67 Inscriptions on a rock at Jambai, as in 2003........................ 67 Rock-cut cave at Tirumalai with painted walls and ceiling, as in 2003................................................ 68 Idol of Śaṇi, besides image of Pārśva, in the outer precincts of Tirunarugondai temple, as in 2003.......... 68 Tirunatharkunru rock inscribed with the images of 24 tīrthankaras........................................................................... 69 Tamil Brāhmi inscriptions on the Kongarpuliyangulam rock (as in year 2015)........................ 69 Cave beds, made for the nirgranthas, underneath the rock at Kongarpuliyangulam (as in year 2015. All subsequent images from this place, from the same year)....................................................................... 70 Bas-relief of Tirthankara at Kongarpuliyangulam................ 70

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Fig. 2.11 Fig. 2.12 Fig. 2.13 Fig. 2.14 Fig. 2.15 Fig. 2.16 Fig. 2.17 Fig. 2.18 Fig. 2.19 Fig. 2.20 Fig. 2.21 Fig. 2.22 Fig. 2.23 Fig. 2.24 Fig. 2.25 Fig. 2.26 Fig. 2.27

List of Figures

Rock-face, with carvings of tirthankaras, at Kilavalavu/Kizhvalavu (all images from this place, from the year 2015).............................................................. 71 Rock, Kilavalavu, at sunset.................................................. 71 Detail of the rock-face at Kilavalavu.................................... 72 Detail of another part of the rock at Kilavalavu................... 72 Inscriptions in the cave-beds at the Kilavalavu Jaina complex........................................... 73 Anaimalai (year 2015).......................................................... 73 Detail of the Anaimalai rock carvings of tirthankaras and Ambicā yakṣi................................................................. 74 Panchapandavar padukkai at Perumalmalai, tīrthankaras carved on rock face, and a Mahāvīra idol underneath (year 2015)................................................. 74 Front face of the Mahāvīra idol............................................ 75 Way to Settipodavu (or Cheṭṭipuḍavai), Samanarmalai, Kilakkuyilkkudi (year 2015)................................................ 75 Mahāvīra at the entrance to the rock-cut cave, Settipodavu (or Cheṭṭipuḍavai) hill, Samanarmalai (as in 2015)................................................... 76 Inside the cave at Settipodavu; tīrthankaras and Ambicā yakṣi on the extreme right corner..................... 76 Samanarmalai rock, and the Ayyanar temple below.................................................................................... 77 Samanarmali rock, with inscriptions and carvings of tīrthankara images............................................................ 77 Image of the author of Tirukkural (Tiruvalluvar) inscribed on the gold coin issued by Ellis............................................ 78 Kundakunda memorial with his footprints installed at Ponnurmalai (as in year 2003).......................................... 78 Photograph of A. Chakravarti............................................... 79

Fig. 2.28

Photograph of T. S. Sripal on a pillar in the Dharmasagar community library in Tirupparambur, which he founded in the 1930s (From field visit in 2003).................................................... 80

Fig. 3.1

The cover of the book, Mayiliṟaku. With the photograph of Mu. Karunanidhi..................................... 97 Sentamarai Ammal (wife of Agattiappan Nayinar, Kanchipuram, on the left) and her daughter, Neelakesi (as in year 2003).................................................. 97 Milk abiśēkam to the deity at the older Malaināthar temple at Melcittamur (in 2015)........................................... 102 Outer prākāra of the Malainātha temple............................... 102 Melcittamur maṭham (as in 2003)........................................ 103

Fig. 3.2 Fig. 3.3 Fig. 3.4 Fig. 3.5

List of Figures

Fig. 3.6 Fig. 3.7 Fig. 3.8 Fig. 3.9 Fig. 3.10 Fig. 3.11 Fig. 3.12 Fig. 3.13 Fig. 3.14 Fig. 3.15 Fig. 3.16 Fig. 3.17 Fig. 3.18 Fig. 3.19 Fig. 3.20 Fig. 3.21 Fig. 3.22

Fig. 3.23 Fig. 3.24 Figs. 3.25–3.28 Fig. 3.29 Fig. 3.30 Fig. 3.31

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The maṭhātipati leading the evening prayer (invoking the yakṣi) at the Pārsu tīrthankara temple at Melcittamur (in year 2015).................................................. 105 The maṭhātipati of Cittamur Jaina maṭham at the Tirunatharkunru rock near Cenji (in year 2003)................... 105 (From the left) Gandharvai pāṭi, Priya and Rani, Melcittamur (as in 2003)...................................................... 111 Mekala and her husband, Kumar outside their home (with an interesting message at the door) at Cenji............... 112 People at Vilukkam, playing a traditional game of dice (as in year 2003)....................................................... 113 At Vilukkam (where I heard the cakkili rājā story in 2003)................................................................................ 114 Selva Kumar, at Vilukkam (in 2015).................................... 119 The golden chariot (taṅkattēr, 2015).................................... 120 At Perumpukai, a man outside a Tamil Jaina home (back in 2003)............................................................. 122 At Perumpukai—family of Candira Nayinar, daughter Padmapriya (on the right), in 2003........................ 123 Year 2015, Padmapriya has been married off....................... 125 Jinavara Das and his wife at their home in Perumpukai (in 2015)........................................................... 125 Jairama Nainar with his wife outside their home in Peramandur (in 2015)....................................................... 130 Rock-cut painted cave at Tirumalai...................................... 141 Some of the students at the Tirumalai gurukulam (2003); the residential school is co-educational................... 141 The Pundi Jinalayam............................................................ 147 The Pundi temple complex. One of the subsidiary shrines (right-most in the picture), where the booklet, Ālayam Toḻuvatu Cālavum Naṉṟu), ‘fell’ into my hands - in 2003..................................................................... 148 Inside a rice mill owned by a Tamil Jaina of Arani.............. 148 Rajagopalan, outside his library, Boudha Samaṇa Āyvu Nūlakam at Arpakkam................................................. 151 Mutilated Jaina and Buddhist images at Arpakkam and Magaral (in 2003), outside Śaivite and Vaiṣṇava temples, supposedly converted............................................. 152 Kunthunathar at Munigiri Jinalayam at Karandai (in year 2003)....................................................................... 157 Mahāvīrar at Munigiri Jinalayam at Karandai (2015).......... 157 The beautiful green yakṣi, Dharumadevi (Kūṣmāṇṭini) in an independent shrine within the Karandai Munigiri Jinalayam (2015)................................................... 158

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Fig. 3.32 Fig. 3.33

Fig. 3.34 Fig. 3.35

Fig. 3.36

Fig. 3.37 Fig. 3.38

Fig. 3.39

Fig. 3.40 Fig. 3.41 Fig. 3.42 Fig. 3.43

Fig. 3.44

List of Figures

Footprints of monks installed within the Karandai temple................................................................................... 158 Photograph and footprints of Gajapatisagar svāmikaḷ of Tirupparambur (Tiruppanamur) who became a monk and later undertook sallekhana vratam (year 2003)............................................................... 159 Aruhakirti Nayinar (L) and Appandai Nayinar (R) at Karandai, outside the Chatram across the Karandai temple (2003).................................................. 159 Year 2003. Subhadrasagar with Siva Adinath and a few of the Tamil Jaina laity from Vandavasi engaged in a discussion on arivu, perception, knowledge, atman, etc.......................................................... 163 Muni Subhadrasagar (the last Digambara monk from Tamilnadu at the time when I met him, in 2003, from the village Erumbur before initiation) at the Visakhacharya Taponilayam, Ponnurmalai................. 164 Chintansri Mataji blessing a Tamil Jaina couple at Vembakkam...................................................................... 168 A billboard (next to one by a local MLA of the place, in praise of Puraṭcitalaivi J. Jayalalithaa, former Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu), on the main road, announcing the Vembakkam Jaina temple pañcakalyāṇam festival............................................ 168 The elephant procession on the first day of the pañcakalyāṇam at Vembakkam (7 February 2015) with members of the family enacting the ritual role of parents of the tīrthankara..................................................... 169 Women carrying vessels of water, coconuts and other ritual paraphernalia for the pañcakalyāṇam (7 February 2015)................................................................. 169 The urcavar (procession deity) goes through the village on a field tractor in Vembakkam (highlighting the agrarian context)....................................... 170 People eagerly awaiting the muni mahārāj (the women are wearing sarees specifically meant for the alms-giving ritual).......................................... 170 Women giving food to the monk (9 February 2015). During alms giving, a virtual solemnity prevails, with extreme caution observed about the method.................................................................. 171 Appandai Nayinar at Vembakkam (2015), with S. Bahubali, looking at the former’s picture I had taken in 2003. Appandai Nayinar passed away in January 2017 (and his wife, Sunanda ammal, late July, 2017)........................................................ 171

List of Figures

Fig. 3.45

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Drummers announcing the tiruviḻā at the Karandai temple (2015)........................................................ 176 Figs. 3.46–3.47 (L) Ritual purification of the dhvajastambham; (R) Readying the small pots for the abhiśēkam inside the temple................................................................... 176 Figs. 3.48–3.49 Appandai Nayinar readying the ritual umbrella, for his last big urcavam.............................................................. 176 Fig. 3.50 Aruhakirti with his wife and Jayankondan (one of the descendants from the family of Jeevabandhu Sripal) at their home in Tirupparambur, in year 2015............................................ 177 Fig. 3.51 Sunanda Ammal sitting in her home, in Karandai (2015).................................................................... 177 Fig. 3.52 Vishwesh Sagar Muni Maharaj at Karandai (26 February 2015)............................................................... 178 Fig. 3.53 Karupaṇṇasāmi-Ayyanar temple with a glimpse of Samanarmalai in the backdrop........................... 182 Fig. 3.54 An iconographic representation of the local folklore of the old woman who went up the hill to propitiate the deity............................................................ 183 Fig. 3.55 Pattavaṉ Cuvāmi memorial near Samanarmalai................... 183 Fig. 3.56 The Tālārammaṉ shrine underneath the Kongarpuliyangulam rock, as in 2015.................................. 186 Fig. 3.57 A stone pole erected on the Kongarpuliyangulam Jaina rock, which is propitiated by local communities on certain days of the month; this seems to be a recent addition......................................... 186 Fig. 3.58 Chinnathambi, Ananth and Srikanth, who told me of the wish-­fulfilling kaṭavul (tīrthankara) and showed me the Murukan worship site on the rock........................................................ 187 Fig. 3.59 Macchakalai (with his grandson), who also offers worship to the ‘god on this (Jaina) hill’ (year 2015)........................................................ 188 Fig. 3.60 Signposts at Kilavalavu showing the way to the Jaina rock, the Pancapandavamalai, and the Murukan ‘temple’ (not a temple but a sacred space, where the spear is worshipped), underneath the Jaina rock........................... 189 Figs. 3.61–3.62 The space where the spear of Murukan is worshipped today. The same place has Jaina cave beds with Tamil Brāhmi inscriptions, supposed to be a protected site............................................................. 190

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Fig. 3.63

Fig. 3.64 Fig. 3.64

Fig. 3.66

Fig. 3.67 Fig. 4.1

Fig. 4.2 Fig. 4.3

Fig. 4.4

Fig. 4.5 Fig. 4.6

List of Figures

Near Kilavalavu Jaina rock, stone quarrying goes on, for the construction industry and other purposes. Apparently, the District Collector had issued orders to stop the same, following requisitions from the Jaina community.................................................................. 190 Muniyandi idol..................................................................... 191 As per a report in The Hindu, dated 4 July 2007, a Mahavira idol has been converted into that of Aadhali Amman (a goddess) in Puliyankadi village in Coimbatore district in Tamilnadu......................... 191 A wall poster, with the question: ‘Is it Arittapatti’s turn, after Anaimalai?’ The Tamil Jainas offer their support to local groups protesting quarrying at Arittapatti.......................................................................... 192 The Madurai Jain Heritage Centre Building in Melakuyilkudi, Madurai................................................... 203 The notice—G.O. 299 of 1937—a photocopy of which I attained at one of the Tamil Jaina villages in year 2003. Brought to light by T. S. Sripal, it has also been reproduced in some of their Tamil magazines................................................................... 227 An old photograph—Karunanidhi felicitating Jeevabandhu Sripal—at the library in Tirupparambur.......... 243 An old photograph of Sripal and others of the South Indian Humanitarian League, meeting the Ādi Drāvidar Vālipar Caṅkam (Adi Dravida youth association). The meeting aimed to dissuade them from animal sacrifices. The picture is from a book in the library. Photo used with kind permission of Mr. Aruhakirti............. 243 Sripal being awarded the Prani Mitra award in recognition of his services from the then President of India, Dr. Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed, in February 1975 (From the book, Jeevabandhu T. S. Sripal Avarkaḷin Nūṟṟāṇṭu Viḻā Niṉaivu Malar (1900–2000), Tamil Samanarkal Sangam, Madurai, 2000)..................................................................... 244 Copy of a letter written by Dr. Zvelebil to Sripal in 1957 praising the South Indian Humanitarian League.................................................................................. 245 One of the descendants from the family of Sripal, Jayankondan, at the same library, newly renovated (Year 2015)................................................ 246

List of Figures

Fig. 4.7 Fig. 4.8 Fig. 4.9 Fig. 4.10

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Some of the books (still some eclectic collection) in the library (2015)........................................... 246 Cintamani Navalar, Santhakumar Jain of Mottur (October 2003)..................................................................... 278 Cintamani Navalar with his life companion (October 2003)..................................................................... 278 The front inner flap of the book, Cīvakacintākmaṇi: Mūlamum (Maturaiyāciriyar—Pārattuvāci) Nacciṉārkkiṉiyaruraiyum, by ‘Chennai Presidency College Tamil Pandit’ Uttamatānapuram Ve. Cāminātaiyar. This was the second edition brought out by the Presidency Accukkūṭam, in 1907......................... 286

About the Author

R. Umamaheshwari  is an independent journalist-academic researcher and former fellow of the Indian Institute of Advanced Study. She is, at present, fellow at the Institut d’Etudes Avancées de Nantes, France. She has received several journalism and academic fellowships for her work on the displacement of marginalised communities on account of developmental projects, on issues associated with development politics and for her work on Tamil Jaina history. She has authored two major books: When Godavari Comes: People’s History of a River (2014); and From Possession to Freedom: the Journey of Nili-Nilakeci (forthcoming).

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Guide to the Transliteration Marks Used

Tamil

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Guide to the Transliteration Marks Used

Sanskrit Consonants

Note: I have followed modern forms for names of modern-day villages in Tamil Nadu, and I do not prefer using transliteration marks for names of scholars and historians (especially Tamil scholars, historians, etc.). For instance, I would use ‘Swaminatha Aiyer’ or ‘Iyer’.

Chapter 1

On Reading History, and a Community

The struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting. Milan Kundera (The Book of Laughter and Forgetting)

Abstract  This chapter introduces the idea and meaning of ‘Reading History with the Tamil Jainas’. Many works on Jainism in South India or Tamilnadu had hitherto focussed on the inscriptional records as ‘evidence’ to establish the presence, flourishing and ‘decline’ of Jainism in the south and in Tamilnadu in particular. But there has not been a single comprehensive account that speaks of the Tamil Jainas as ‘present’ and a very much living tradition in the agrarian pockets of Tamilnadu. This chapter introduces the theme of the book and the reasons thereof, apart from elucidating the reasons for a particular format that this book wrote itself into. The idea is to stress on the multiple narratives (rather than a singular, monolithic past)—set in different regional contexts, than a pan-Indian one—that are possible for reading histories of marginalised, minority communities, if we approach them as ‘present’ among and amidst us, and seek to retrieve their pasts (as lived histories, with memories of persecution still strong) from their own perspectives of histories. Keywords  Synchronic • Diachronic • Naiṉār • Forgetting • Identity • Marginalisation • Longue durée • Social memory • Speech community

So, in order to remember, and not to forget, or to remember not to forget some locales, some people, some traditions that did—and do—exist and which struggle against the attempts to make a uniform, singular and monolithic past (supposed to have been ‘tolerant’ or ‘all-inclusive’, but which may not really have been so), I write of one particular instance in the history of Tamil Nadu through the story of a community. I try to recover some moments of their pasts on aspects that have not been recovered, or chronicled before, in this manner. What I say for one instance, or for one community, may be applicable to other instances, and other communities,

© Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla 2017 R. Umamaheshwari, Reading History with the Tamil Jainas, Sophia Studies in Cross-cultural Philosophy of Traditions and Cultures 22, DOI 10.1007/978-81-322-3756-3_1

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similarly marginalised (or marginalised in a different manner), similarly silenced or made to live a near-hidden existence, unless they asserted their agency in the collective history of a nation or a region or a state, or even the world, for that matter. In general, the popular understanding of Jainas has been a limited one, based on stereotypes about Jainas across the country: their being affluent people, influential media barons or jewellers or industrialists. There is, in general, no understanding of the differentiation between the various sects within Jainism and definitely no knowledge of South Indian and, more specifically, Tamil Jainas. And I speak of the Tamil Jainas, in particular, a community that does not fit into these stereotypes. I speak of how a community remembers and looks at its past. The Tamil Jainas are today a miniscule minority in terms of numbers and in other manners and forms. I give an instance of their perception of themselves from within: We are Tamil speaking Jainas. We number around 30,000 in Tamil Nadu. Most of us are agriculturists. Some are self-employed, a few employed in small positions in shops and some other vocations. Some are in government jobs. Inscriptions from the 5th century BC onwards that have come to light in Tamil Nadu, are mostly those associated with the samanam (Jainas). Our forefathers have given more than their share to Tamil literary and textual tradition. While the population of Tamil Nadu is around 6 crores, we count as the minority of minorities in terms of numbers. Yet, we have not been accorded minority status. We can literally count on our fingers the number of people from our community who have managed government employment. Thiru V.K. Appandairajan in the IAS, Thiru. S. Sripall in IPS, Thiru T. Vardhamanan in Banking sector… Hence we request the government to include us, Tamil speaking Samanar (Jainas), citizens of Tamil Nadu, in the Minorities List. Thanking you, A.P. Aravazhi.

Cited above was a requisition submitted to the Tamil Nadu government which was printed in the Tamil Jaina community journal, Mukkudai.1 The letter is signed by the President of the forum, which is called Samaṇar Pēroli Iyakkam. In year 2003, the population figures were 32,700, as per the census of the Jaina Youth Forum shared with me then by Mr. Aravazhi. Now, of course, the pan-Indian Jaina community has been granted minority status, as in the year 2014: The Union Cabinet on Monday agreed to grant the Jain community—followers of an ancient faith often confused to be a sect of Hinduism—the status of a “national minority”. This fulfills a long-standing demand by the 7-million-strong community that has sought to maintain its religious and cultural identity. As a religious minority, Jains will qualify for constitutional safeguards and special policy attention alongside five other such religious minority groups: Muslims, Christians, Sikhs, Buddhists and Parsis… Jains, an otherwise affluent minority, were fighting for “national minority” status mainly to protect and promote Jainism as a distinct faith and culture. Along with Hinduism and Buddhism, it is one of the three most ancient religious faiths in the subcontinent. “A national minority status allows us to enjoy fundamental rights under Article 25 and Articles 26 to propagate our religion and also freedom to manage our religious affairs. Without this, our identity was eroding,” said Sanjeev Jain, an advocate of the cause. (Hindustan Times, 21 January 2014)2

 Issue No. 29, November 2002, pp.21–22.  http://www.hindustantimes.com/india/upa-gives-jain-community-minority-status/story-.html. Emphasis added, to substantiate my earlier point about the stereotypes.

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One of the prominent Tamil Jaina scholar-activists of the twentieth century, ‘Jeevabandhu’ T. S. Sripal writes, Research on the Jaina community must begin from Tamil Nadu [with] the Pudukkōṭṭai Sittanavāsal inscriptions dating to 3rd century BC. And many of the oldest Brāhmi inscriptions of the Tamil country (are associated with the Jaina faith)…. (Sripal 1996, p. 18)

And he says, Ādi Agattiyar, Tolkāppiyar, Āvināyaṉār, Tirukkuṟaḷ author (Kundakundācārya), Sāmanta Bhadrācārya, Jinasenācārya, Akaḷañkatēvar, Koñkuvēḷar…Vajranandi, Pavanandi…were all Tamil Jaina scholars and ācāryas of the Tamil country. (Ibid, p. 10)

In today’s patterns, forms and content lies a past. But even in reading that past, we are in the present; and what happens around us today, in the present context—political, economic, social or cultural—informs, and has to inform, the way we choose to look at the early periods, or at any past. How does one look at/study the history of a living community, especially one, which has suffered major upheavals in the face of religious conflict and persecution and has had to negotiate its space in various ways, through historical time? How does one study a community such as this, which has sent many requisitions to the governments in power to grant them the status of minority and not club them under one universal (and incorrect) category of ‘Hindu’? Especially when history shows the level and extent of their prominence and popularity from the Caṅkam period, through the times of the three major dynasties, the intervening period of persecution notwithstanding? When one used the term Tamil Jaina, it almost invariably attracted curious, questioning glances and questions from people. The term itself seemed rather intriguing, interesting and new, to many. Jainas in Tamil Nadu—or Chennai, for that matter—would mean, to most people, the rich Marwari business people settled in certain pockets. These would also be the more ‘visible’ lot, rendering themselves to class and community stereotypes in popular psyche. One could also use the term Tamil-speaking Jainas (as has been done in the requisition to the state quoted earlier, but that would be done for an official reason), but then again, these mercantile, later migrants (many from Rajasthan) to Tamil Nadu—Chennai, mostly—Śvetāmbara (mainly Mūrtipujak) Jainas who also speak Tamil, to interact with the general populace. It is not their ‘tongue’ but an acquired one. The Tamil Jainas, on the other hand, trace their lineage from the earliest adherents of the Jaina doctrine—most of them agriculturists3—and part and parcel of the Tamil historical-cultural landscape, people ‘of the soil’, to use that cliché. The Digambara Tamil Jaina community has come a long way from having prided itself over a history as old as the second and third century BCE—as the earliest lithic records, the Tamil Brāhmi inscriptions—have shown. The Tamil Jainas today

3  In fact, this is one reality that seems amazing to people, in general—including the academic community—who assume Jainas to be synonymous with trading. The Tamil Jainas in fact distinguish themselves from the Śvetāmbara (northern) Jainas (settlers, across Tamil Nadu) whom they refer to as seṭh.

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mostly live in the North and South Arcot districts,4 Chengalpatttu, Tiruvannamalai and Thanjavur districts. These are places they are concentrated in, but some are scattered across Tamil Nadu (few settled in Chennai) on account of employment-­ related migration. While agriculture has been their mainstay, a few among them have entered into miscellaneous professions such as tour services, real-estate business, education and a small minority in bureaucracy. As per the 1981 government census, Madras City, Chengalpattu and North and South Arcot accounted for 90% of the Jainas in Tamil Nadu, with the rural population being 11,829 and urban 37,735.5 In the 2011 census of the Tamil Nadu government, the total Jaina population was 89,265. Out of this, the rural population was 10,084 and urban 79,181.6 But the census does not make any distinction as to whether they are Tamil Jainas or the migrant settler Jainas. The Tamil Jainas refer to themselves as ‘naiṉār’ [or use the suffix Nayinar with their names7], and many of them use the titles Mudaliyar, Chettiyar, etc., an aspect I shall touch upon in one of the chapters here. Speaking of a community that has to locate itself within—or is born into—a ‘larger’ identity in terms of the religious doctrine it follows and a parallel, but very crucial, identity in terms of the linguistic tradition and cultural idioms is not an easy task. One cannot make any conclusive, deterministic statement on such a community, which is marginal in terms of both numbers and by virtue of being ‘hidden’ by an overwhelming mainstream religious idiom which, to a large extent, has come to be ‘Hindu’. One locates—relocates—these apparently parallel identities of the Tamil Jainas today inhabiting pockets of northern Tamilnadu in small numbers in cluster settlements in the villages or in pockets of the smaller towns and bigger cities of Tamilnadu. I have sought to find out as to which identity they now relate to, built as it is, over centuries. In a sense, their history has to be located within both diachronic and synchronic processes, in terms of the larger developments at different times which affect the community’s own state of being and in terms of the very direct, or particular, aspect of the language Tamil and identity as bound to both the Tamil language and to the history of their contribution to it, in respective ‘present’ times. Also, the layers of their remembrances occur over the geographic space of the villages they inhabit with stories you will hear of the same kind across these spaces, at one level, or stories of different time-periods in history occurring in some villages alone. And then there is the level of remembering stories of several events, across time, similarly. In these respects, one can perceive the sense of ‘community identity’ in the Tamil Jainas. Within the pan-Digambara Jaina context, too, one needs to locate the difference between the Digambara Jainas in the north and the ones in Tamilnadu. So far as I have observed (and based on several conversations with the Tamil Jainas), it 4  I am using certain district names as they were in use over a long time (many of them are still in use, though officially their names and contours have been altered several times over last many years) in order to avoid confusion. The terms, ‘North Arcot’ and ‘South Arcot’ in fact, are almost part of the Tamil cultural-linguistic context. 5  Population Census, 1991, (Dist Census Handbook) Part XII A. 6  2011 Census of Tamilnadu. www.censusindia.gov.in 7  Which some of them have discontinued in the last several years.

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5

seems that the people from the north are more interested in the temples and pilgrimage, without any engagement with the history or specific context of Tamil history, and Jainism within that history. Back in 2003, a group of Tamil Jainas were making all efforts to collect and preserve palm leaf manuscripts that were lying unread in homes and in some temples and even at the monastery at Melcittamur and seeking funds for the same. Their idea was to digitise these for the sake of future researches. But they did not find any rich Digambara Jaina from the north to support this activity. At around the same time, one of the richer members of the community from the north was funding the construction of a marble temple complex near Ponnurmalai. The group of Tamil Jainas who I am talking about showed this to me as the nature of difference in perspective among members of their community. Sometimes, it seemed like the history of Tamil Jainas as a community was going on a parallel, unconnected, track when compared with those in the north. During my tenure as a Nehru scholar at the V&A Museum, London, too, I met a wealthy Jaina who was helping support the digitisation of the collections of manuscripts at the V&A. It so happens that the collections there too seemed to show, relatively speaking (at least at that point), a bent towards the northern (Rajasthan, Gujarat, etc.) and Śvetāmbara traditions. There wasn’t much representation, in those collections, of the Tamil Jaina context.8 This is also because of the vast difference between the political and economic contexts of regions and communities. Some things are changing now, as it seemed to me, after a recent visit. There is a new heritage centre set up by the same group of Tamil Jainas who had been working at preserving historical records of the community. It is at its nascent stage yet. My framework looks at the context of Tamilnadu to say that the trajectory of the Tamil Jainas needs to be located within the Tamil country rather than within a pan-­ Indian Jaina context (the latter is not written off, but it does not occupy my attention), for there is a lot within the Tamil country‘s history that gives enough material to problematise (or to use the other cliché, ‘discourse’) the Tamil Jaina community history. The Tamil context is important, not just in terms of a Tamil cultural-­ geographical space but also the Tamil speech community and history of the Tamil language. Here, one is looking at the past backwards from the present, from among the Tamil Jainas, to see where it gets us, instead of writing their history down for them from a distance, removed from them, in a separate world of archives and temples and monuments, without people. I also found, in the course of my ­field-­based research, that prominent Tamil Jainas of the time had located themselves within the Dravidian and anti-brāhmin movements, as much as with the movement for Tamil language and culture, as against Sanskritic brāhmiṇism. 8  Perhaps the reason is also to be seen in the manner of travels that brought some of the Jainas from the north across the oceans. Perhaps it is also to do with the fact that the Tamil Jaina manuscripts remained within their homes and temples and being a settled agrarian community, there was not much that would really ‘go out’ from these contexts. Which explains how relatively more is recorded of them in the British colonial context by Mackenzie and Thurston, during their surveys in South India, than what is available in the British library in London. Meanwhile, I thank Prof. Chetan Singh for bringing up the idea of locating my work within the ideas of ‘synchronic’ and ‘diachronic’ processes; my own personal academic interest, until then, had been on an overarching ‘long-term’.

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There are questions I have sought to explore: how do you chronicle a community or the identity of one, whose history—read from traditional accounts—seemed to be encapsulated within two moments of its being: rise and fall/decline? Especially a living community? What of the moments in between or moments ‘otherwise’? Of lived history? For my part, I saw in the Tamil Jainas and in their present status, a past that had been, perhaps, ‘inflicted’ on them, just as a ‘present’ has been imposed on the Buddhists, who are not ‘present’ anymore in this part of the subcontinent (I am not referring to the neo-Buddhists here). For that matter, minorities (as they are referred to, and this could include tribal communities and other dalits in a different context, of course), for most part, are continually living the past (and thereby present) that was forced upon them, their present being the ‘present’ of centuries prior. Their present is a continuation of their history, in many senses. If we can make sense of why their present is the way it is—a persistent question for me—and if we can engage with the continuing relation between the past and present, and vice versa, we may be able to understand as to why some communities constantly refer back in time. The past then becomes a matter of continued reality in the present. At the broadest level, the followers or adherents of the Jina doctrine (or the Jainas) organise themselves in two main components: the monks and nuns and the śrāvakas (the householders/laity)9; the history of this sect, then, in its most general sense, is the history of the ‘preachers’ and the ‘preached’, each component having its own, separate, natures of travails and its own moorings on the question of ‘being’, ‘having been’ and ‘becoming’. In the past, substantial scholarship was focussed on the Jaina inscriptional records in South India; on the Jaina adherents among important dynasties that have ruled over various regional divisions and the perpetual question of ‘rise’ and ‘decline’. The śrāvaka history, the narratives of the householders, their histories and collective memories were missing in these. More recent writings in the history of Jaina communities in the north have been dealing with questions of traditional hermeneutics and interpretations of texts, performance of rituals, the ‘oral’ aspects of scripture and so on. For a community that has always laid great emphasis on the possession and preservation (as well as the act of giving, or śāstra dāna) of manuscripts, and its ‘sacred’ literature, this aspect—of the dialogue between the doctrine and the practice—has been addressed by a few scholars in the last decade or so. But these scholars, again, focussed on the Jaina sects in the north—mostly Gujarat and Rajasthan—and did not contribute, to the southern Indian Jaina context, to any significant extent. Of course, a few scholars, such as Leslie Orr, James Ryan, Anne Monius and Christoph Emmrich, are bringing the focus to the Southern Indian context. Yet, the Tamil Jainas of the villages in Tamil Nadu are yet to receive their comprehensive chronicler, in a sense. The Tamil Jainas have contributed to more than half of the entire Tamil classical literary corpus (which includes the Caṅkam literary corpus, dated from the third century BCE to the fifth century CE) with works such as Cilappatikāram,

9  Though the bhaṭṭārakas came in at some point as well, but their duty was also to keep these two components functioning at the level of the Digambara Jaina community, as a whole.

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Cīvakacintāmaṇi, Tamil grammar Naṉṉūl, Tirukkuṟaḷ, Valayāpati, Nālaṭiyār, Nīlakeci, etc. Iravatham Mahadevan writes that there was, [An] enormous contribution made by the Jainas to the growth of Tamil literature from the earliest times up to about the 16th century AD…[and to] the development of a script for the language, leading to literacy and the later efflorescence of Caṅkam literature in early centuries AD. (Mahadevan 2003, p. 139)

The earliest Jaina vestiges include around 26 rock-cut caves and natural caverns with Tamil Brāhmi inscriptions (second/third century BCE); around 140 stone beds for monks and nuns at places in Madurai-Ramanathapuram, Erode, North and South Arcot districts; the famed paintings of Sittanavasal; and so on. I have sought to understand if the Jaina religion in the early Tamil country was a movement of the Jina’s doctrine from ‘marginal’ (in its earliest phase, choosing for itself the seclusion of hillocks and rock shelters, and just ‘being’, alongside the tribes of the forest dwellers and hill dwellers), supported by agriculturists and merchants, to becoming the universal ‘mainstream’ of activity centring around royalty, land grants (some with exclusive rights), monasteries and educational institutions (called paḷḷi) gaining more adherents and coming in direct confrontation/contestation with the Buddhists (with whom they entered into many polemical debates, as the Buddhist and Jaina texts show) and later with the Śaiva and Vaiṣṇava religious ideologies, with the latter finally marginalising the Jainas. I locate the ‘mainstream’ or ‘universal’ within the context of expansion of agrarianism, an overwhelming agrarian rhythm of life, with the brāhmiṇical religion being able to cleverly combine mythology with patterns of rural life—the temple lore, sthalapurāṇas, etc.—bringing in concepts of rooted sacredness of a river, a tank, a pond or a lake and with festivals corresponding with the agricultural seasons, etc. Of course, the Tamil Jainas, too, being an agrarian society have some of their festivals (such as Pongal) coinciding with the agrarian cycles. In their traditions, the Jainas believe that Ṛṣabha, their first tīrthankara, created the vocation of agriculture, among other vocations. In the Tamil context, many of the earliest rock-cut cave/natural cavern inscriptions confirm the agrarian context of the Jainas. And early support for Jainism did come from agricultural communities, as it did from merchants and merchant guilds. Hence, unlike what scholars believed (about Jainism having the largest followers from among traders and merchants), in the case of early Tamil country, this is not borne out by evidence, as the early, medieval and later inscriptions—besides the existence of a living agricultural community—prove. Moreover, two important components—the monks and laity—being dependent on each other meant that there was a system in place, comprising a laity making the rock shelters available, causing the rock beds to be carved out for the monks and nuns who visited and stayed during the cāturmās, the months of dwelling at one place, which usually coincided with the monsoons. But there was a ‘movement’ in the sense that one finds numerous inscriptions from the medieval period that show that the Jaina establishments—paḷḷis, temples, etc.—gain patronage from the community and royalty. Gradually, the Jaina ‘maṭham’ comes into the picture. It is interesting to perceive the elements of

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continuity in the history of the Jaina community, despite extraneous pressures on them to be absorbed, become part of, the mainstream and adopt all the idioms that were once antithetical (at a theoretical and philosophical level) to the doctrine of the Jina. It must be qualified, however, that in the agrarian context, the Tamil Jaina history may not necessarily have been one of ‘tillers’ of the soil but perhaps owners of agricultural land and living within an agrarian economy, not an economy of trade. It is possible that those with limited means, over a period of time, started tilling their own lands, as many of them informed me, owing to changes in the overall agrarian context post-independence. However, one of the prominent Tamil Jainas I had met in Chennai in the course of my doctoral research, V. C. Sripalan, had told me that: dharmic principles within the Jaina religion stood in the way of agriculture as a profession, over time; hence, the people started employing others to labour on their fields, and gradually lost touch with agriculture. The idea of not ploughing for profit and minimum himsā (violence) were also dilemmas the community faced. Till 1960s, the community was into agriculture as a profession and very few took to other professions (teaching, for instance). In the 1970s and 80s, many changes occurred. By 1990s, 50 per cent gave up active agriculture and took up different kinds of employment.10

But it was not clear (from what he told me at that point, before I had met the farming classes among them) as to how he would account for the mention of agriculture as a vocation initiated by Ṛṣabha, which the community also believes in. Chapter 2 is divided into two sub-sections—(i) Jaina ‘Entry’ into the Tamil Country and Early Jaina Epigraphic Records: A Historical Overview and (ii) Colonial and Oriental ‘Discovery’ of the Jainas; ‘Recovery’ of the Self. The first section gives an overview of early and modern-day scholarship on the ‘entry’ of Jainism in Tamilnadu and some of the early Tamil Brāhmi records. The second section discusses the interest of oriental and colonial scholars in the Jaina religion and community, as to how they perceived them and in what context Jainas became important for them. In the early works, Jainism was seen in relation to, or contradistinction to, Buddhism. Buddhist studies may have sparked the interest in a doctrine that was almost similar when it came to the idea of non-violence. I found a ‘movement’ from nineteenth century and early twentieth century’s ‘discovery’ by ‘others’ to the modern period in Tamil Jaina history and a ‘recovery’ of self by the Tamil Jainas seeing themselves through people like Bishop Caldwell and others. A. Chakravarti, the Tamil Jaina professor of philosophy, in his books would compare Western science, philosophy (and political philosophy) and Jainism, for instance. But there are also others who provide ‘text’ for Jainas to seek their ‘selves’ in scholars such as U.  V. Swaminatha Aiyer (U.Ve.Ca), whose search, collation, editing and compilation of palm leaf manuscripts were instrumental in the recovery of Cīvakacintāmaṇi for the Tamil audience. I engage with this moment of discovery of the text in some detail (in the second part) for, in this story there are layers about the ‘ownership’ of manuscripts (intrinsic to history and identity of a community) as

10

 10 December, 2002. Personal communication.

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9

also about the nature of preserving a text that remained alive in the community memory on account of its oral recitation. Language is important to the Tamil Jaina community history. The Jaina attachment to Tamil, thus, has an antiquity that is interesting as it is significant, for in the modern period of Tamil nationalist movement, the Tamil Jainas were deeply engaged in a discourse to ascertain their Tamil linguistic heritage. The language Tamil was not something they ‘discovered’ as theirs via the European discourse on Tamil as a language of the Dravidian culture, distinct from the north (of India); it has to do with their earliest involvement with Tamil in the early centuries BCE. The modern-­ day movements and discourses, in that sense, only always ‘revived’ their sense of connection to Tamil and its literary heritage. Chapter 4—‘Retrieving’, Seeking, the Tamil Jaina Self: The Politics of Memory, Identity and Tamil Language—underscores some of these aspects, which have been missing in most scholarship on Jainism in Tamilnadu. Here, I recount Max Weber’s point that, ‘Asiatic culture lacked a ‘speech community’, and that cultural language was a sacred one, or a speech of the literary; Sanskrit in the territory of the distinguished India, and Chinese Mandarin speech in China, Korea and Japan’ (Weber 1992, p. 341). In case of the Tamil Jainas, there did exist a ‘speech community’ as also a ‘cultural language’, and both happened to be Tamil. Yet, Tamil never seemed to have been overshadowed by Sanskrit, perhaps due to a longer linguistic culture having developed in the Tamil country from early on (starting from early Tamil Brāhmi inscriptions, which were meant to reach out to a Tamil linguistic community). The Jainas had an enormous output in Tamil textual (sacred and secular) tradition through the centuries. The Kuṟaḷ was subject to a fairly long and interesting debate (situated in the social histories of other communities, as well) in Tamilnadu on questions of its authorship, a point that I dwell at length upon, in the same chapter, especially where it converges with the Tamil Jaina questions of identity and language. I believe that instead of reducing it all to a question of rise and decline of Jainism in Tamilnadu, one must question the deeper nature of cultural hegemony that prevailed, and the absorption into the overwhelming and universalised (in the Tamil context, brāhmiṇical Hinduism), in terms of adoption of cults, practices, idioms and cultural symbols to survive amidst the louder and the dominant. And from all this, something that is most crucial, and as yet difficult to come to terms with, is the question of memories of persecution. It was possible to retrieve some of these memories in narratives from the Tamil Jaina community. I have sought to explore the idea of the ‘absorption’ (some call it assimilation) as an uneasy (yet inevitable) compromise in the contentious struggle among communities for being different (a social-­ historical-­ political template within which many marginalisations can yet be understood). Yet, in many ways there have been occasions when the Tamil Jaina community has consistently asserted its difference and distinctness as a community with its place in Tamil history.

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1.1  Why, and How Come, Tamil Jainas? How did my association with the Tamil Jainas come about? The starting point was my MPhil research on the Tamil god Murukaṉ and the visit/ ‘research pilgrimage’ to the six sacred centres of Murukaṉ worship in the Tamil country, called the Arupaṭaivīṭu.11 My journey through these centres gave rise, initially, to curiosity, and then, the question as to how most of these centres had some kind of prior Jaina association. Many were situated near, and by the rock shelters, natural caverns which had, at one point, housed Jaina monks/teachers as epigraphic evidence from these places show. Many of these places still preserved vestiges of the Jaina history. Perhaps, many were still held sacred. But where were the Jainas; where was the community? What happened to the Jaina religion? What of its adherents? Were there still people who came to offer respects at these sacred sites? Many of the Jaina sites did not seem to attract too many people, when compared to the ones Murukaṉ attracted. Or, maybe they did. Where are these Jainas today? I was aware of the literary works attributed to Jainas, such as the Cilappatikāram. But the idea that there still could be Tamil Jainas did not strike me, initially. Initially, I was more intrigued by the hiddenness of this community. Did Jainism flourish and dissolve? Were there survivals? Where? In the course of research on Murukaṉ, I did make mention of the universalised brāhmiṇical hegemony that affected numerous local cults and excluded faiths such as the Buddhist and Jaina, and under this hegemony, temples were converted, or re-configured, to fit into āgamic temple paradigms with universal Sanskritic, Purāṇic gods and goddesses. But the silence about (to me, at least) a community that was persecuted was too intriguing and challenging to let go of. I had started my PhD research with reading of Jaina philosophy and a general history of the Jaina religion. During this period of contemplation, a chance mention by a student12 that her friend was a Tamil Jaina made me renew my interest in the community aspect of Tamil Jainism. That also decided the course; I had already travelled through the sacred centres of Murukaṉ worship and had marvelled at how little attention the Jaina centres evoked from people. The questions asked then about the Jainas, Jainism in Tamiḻakam, returned to my mind. I decided to seek the Tamil Jainas, adherents of a faith that had, at one point, dominated the entire Madurai-­ Ramanathapuram region, with its numerous rock-cut caves and caverns for the Jaina monks and nuns. Most scholarship on Jainism in Tamilnadu used sources such as inscriptions, lithic records, literature and architectural heritage to build a linear, straightforward history of entry, spread, prosperity and decline. Even the inscriptional evidences are used more to reiterate the state patronage to Jainism. Persecution of the Jainas is mentioned, of course, but again, limited to the period of  My MPhil dissertation (unpublished) was titled, Many Images of Murukaṉ: Perceptions of a Popular Deity and the Arupaṭaivīṭu in the Tirumukāṟṟupaṭai, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. 12  At Stella Maris College in Chennai, who later became a friend, Radha Kumar, whose introduction to me of her Tamil Jaina friend (Anusha and her family) gave a fresh lease of life to my query about the community, which I found. 11

1.1  Why, and How Come, Tamil Jainas?

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the seventh to ninth centuries CE. The community remains unexplored in all this. There is no mention, nor analysis, of the Jainas in the context of agrarian culture, despite the consistent and well-researched monographs produced on Jainism in Tamil Nadu, even if the community they talk about is present, in their very midst, since centuries, nor is there any mention of how the Jainas addressed the caste system. It is possible perhaps to initiate a discussion on how caste may have played a role in the ‘negotiated’ survival of the Jainas. It is also perhaps easier for the Tamil Jainas to pass off as an upper ‘caste’ rather than as a separate religious group. How the Tamil Jainas conceive of the brāhmiṇs, as also being responsible for their persecution and present condition, may not be something of a common knowledge. Unfortunately, the records and ‘evidences’ depict a fossilised period, a fossilised community that ‘was’, no matter if it ‘still is’ and ‘has been’! It should be a fascinating exercise to ask as to what kind of time becomes suitably the ‘past’, so as to ‘keep it in the past’ as it were? The changes wrought in the way the community behaves, subsequently, which is a contribution of that past, seem irrelevant, and sadly so. But it is these changes and negotiations for survival that reveal a past more evocatively than any record of state patronage ever can/could. The very fact that a community that received generous donations and was steeped in Tamil literary tradition is today almost inconsequential suggests whether the past should be where it has been left by previous scholarship on Jainism or should it be brought further down to the very present, in order to retrieve facets of communal (in terms of religious communalism/sectarianism) moments of the past of Tamil Nadu, rather than a ‘golden’ era of a non-problematised ‘Tamil culture’. Even ‘golden eras’ are questions for the historian and the sociologist in terms of the exclusions they are built upon. And what is golden for one may not be so for the other. The marginal numbers of the Tamil Jainas today and the dominance of certain religious idioms and cultural traits need to be seen together and not distinctly. The Tamil Jainas’ stories of ‘nīr pūci nayiṉārs’,13 the converts to Śaiva faith, and other stories now part of their mythology (that of the yakṣi Dharumadevi who was cheated into marrying a Buddhist, or a brāhmin, in different versions) cannot be assigned a ‘time’, or ‘date’ exactly, but they are still evoked, as they may have been in the past, when they were written, with some meaning. Surely, these are equally important to ascertain the nature of sustained conflict between community and identity. There are also lithic records that reveal the Śaivite animosity towards the Jainas. One such example is the inscriptional record, A.  R. 559 of 1902 (Kulōttuṅga Chōḷa, at the Nataraja temple at Chidambaram), which asserts that the violator of the grant will be committing as great a sin as betraying Śiva (Śivattu-rōkiyum āy), eating beef (kō-māṅsattai...) and shall carry the pitcher of the ṣamaṇars [ṣamaṇar-kku kuṇṭikkai eṭuppāṉ]14 (SII, 1937: No. 150, lines 5–6). In general, though, the verses of the Śaiva bards, Appar and Jñāna Sambandar are cited as evidence of the kind of persecution of the Jainas. I have focussed on the manner in which the ‘persecuted’ narrate the instances 13  The Tamil Jainas call the Śaiva veḷḷāḷas nīr pūci veḷḷāḷar also, at times. I record the term, nīr pūci, exactly as it is rendered in the colloquial. 14  I thank Dr. S. Palaniappan for pointing this source out to me.

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of hatred towards their community, as I find that an important source to document, instead of merely speaking of the ‘rise’ and ‘decline’ of Jaina community in Tamilnadu, based on the number of inscriptional records assigned to temples of the Jainas, which is also important enough to document, but mine is not—and does not claim to be—purely a study of epigraphs. So, I went in search of a community, seeking to record history from its own perspectives of its past. I came back with several histories and several aspects of the community’s own understanding of its present and past. But a common thread seemed to string their narratives together. I also came back with notes on the history of the politics of Tamil language and literature, as to who ‘owns’ a language and, thereby, the idea of a place. I came back with some level of understanding of marginalisations in history and historiography. Marginalisations, I realised, happened in many forms: either through non-representation of a community’s history and ideas in mainstream discourses (political, economic and social) or the dénouement of seeing the destruction of ancient monuments, either through overt destruction or through conversion of temples. I also realised the existence of a community that has been making sustained efforts to maintain its distinct identity of not simply being seen as Jaina or samaṇar but also Tamil and Drāvida, so the cultural-geographical space of the Tamiḻakam as well as the political space of Tamilnadu (through participation in the anti-brāhmiṇ15 discourse or the Self-Respect Movement) both become important. It is to be noted that when I speak of ‘marginalisation’ with respect to the Tamil Jainas, it is not to be treated on par with the marginalisation of dalits and tribal communities in the Indian context, the trajectory and politics of which are entirely different. I mention this because I have been often criticised by people at spaces where I have spoken about the Tamil Jaina community and raised the question of marginalisation, because for them the Jainas (who they also perceive within the paradigm of the stereotypical Jainas of northern and western India, wealthy and hence influential) are hardly ‘marginals’ of the system. When I use marginalisation, it is in terms of the Tamil Jainas having lost their presence in the overall historical process of the Tamil country. Their marginalisation is from its history and in terms of their own hiddenness and also in terms of the apathy shown for their role in Tamil history. In terms of caste status, though, their being veḷḷāḷars would also add to the ‘blurring’ of identity with their non-Jaina caste counterparts. So, one is qualifying their marginalisation, which is from a dominant Hindu, brāhmiṇical tradition and a mainstream construct which obliviates the presence of Buddhists and Jainas in Tamil history. There is yet another related factor to be kept in mind. The historical trajectory of the Tamil Jainas in Tamil Nadu is distinct from that of Jainas of other regions in the 15  I must make a note of my use of small case for the terms brāhmiṇ and veḷḷāḷa. I only capitalise religious groups—Jaina, Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, Muslim, etc., and caste titles of Mudaliyar, Chettiar, etc. (since one is distinguishing those as official titles used in proper names). I prefer to use the terms brāhmiṇ and veḷḷāḷa as cultural (and political) categories (with implications for the social). It is a matter to be pondered upon that in general, the ‘non-use’ of caps for ‘dalit’ and ‘adivasi’ does not seem to evoke any question. But non-use of caps for the terms ‘brāhmiṇ’ and ‘veḷḷāḷa’ does. But that is not an argument I wish to enter into here.

1.1  Why, and How Come, Tamil Jainas?

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Indian subcontinent; hence, there should not be a universalised account of their pan-­ Indian Jaina identity, unless there are occasions when that pan-Indian Jaina identity becomes the expressed assertion in legal, constitutional matters (of asserting that they are not ‘Hindu’, or in asserting the right to practice sallēkhana, or right of their naked Digambara monks to pass through peacefully during their long walks across the country, and so on), or in their pan-Indian pilgrimage circuit, which remains common for the Jainas, with the places of nirvāṇa of their tīrthankaras being common. But there are local (culturally and geographically) village-based pilgrimage circuits, as well, which have little to do with the pan-Jaina circulatory spaces. However, one must make note of the recent trend visible here, as well, that of the northern Indian Jainas (Digambaras, usually) making extended pilgrimages to temples in South India. Large groups of Digambaras make trips to southern Jaina temples in tour buses and vans. This also follows the trend of Digambara monks and nuns making extended visits to the Tamil Jaina villages, more so in the last two decades. So, one has to account for the increase in the north-south interaction at the religious level. At another level, in the current politics of the Indian nation, too, trends seem to have changed, with some religious leaders and spokespersons of non-Hindu religions (including Jaina and Buddhist, in recent times) becoming closer to the religious and political right. This might be seen as an act of negotiation for seeking political favours. I did not start with this observation when I began to interact with the Tamil Jainas, whose affinity seemed to lie, generally, with the Dravidian movement and its legacy in the newer formations of the Dravidian parties, such as the DMK (more often) and the AIADMK.16 But it would be an interesting study in the present context, as it would also help us reconstruct the pasts of communities who have had to negotiate with the political powers for their immediate survival and economic favours. However, I reserve further discussion on this subject in this book, while still making a case for understanding the local religious-historical contexts through studies at that (local) level, rather than at a universal level. For, the historical accounts and processes vary between the regions in the north, west and south so far as the Digambara Jainas are concerned, and this is visible also in the choice of politics and political ideology.17 It is important for a historian documenting Tamil Jaina history to be conscious of this. Speaking of scholarship on the inscriptional records, and agrarian history in Tamil Nadu, again, Jainas (and Buddhists) appear as interesting ‘interludes’ or aberration and, more often than not, are mentioned as merchants, traders patronised by the state, later persecuted, leading to their downfall. The two sects, Buddhists and Jainas again, in these studies, seem mute, non-actors in the large socio-economic  Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam and All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam, respectively  Definitely not (as in, year 2015) the Right-leaning parties, because there is a deeper assertion of the fact that the Jaina Religion has nothing to do with the Hindu, and hence, the events in Tamil history where the community was persecuted by the Śaivite and Vaiṣṇavite Bhakti and brāhmiṇical religious paradigm are a good reason to stay away from parties that suggest the imposition of a universal ‘Hindu’ idiom.

16 17

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1  On Reading History, and a Community

and political history of Tamiḻakam, disinterested, as if, in the mundane affairs of land, administration, royal patronage and resource mobilisation, true to their religious doctrine of aparigraha. What of the land grants to the Jainas? And the agrarian community thus surviving, built over a period of centuries? Was there never serious contestation? What about the conflict between the Buddhists and Jainas? And the Śaiva or Vaiṣṇava movement? Were these all merely motivated by religious differences? Did the Jaina community not have any worldly linkages/concerns/ ambitions? The very fact they survived, while the Buddhists simply vanished, says a lot for their ability to survive with certain kinds of negotiations and other means. And that needs to be reviewed, relocated. It shows that a community needs to be reviewed/reformulated within historiography as a historically placed community, as an agent of history. A constant interplay of social, economic and political forces persuades changes in a community’s own sense of identity and addresses the question of hegemony and dominance. To not address the community in terms of their very ‘real’ historical exchanges—violent or subtle—with other communities/interest groups would mean to indirectly accept the universal as given, as a priori. Persecution, too, is seen differently in my study. There have been many times when they were persecuted, not just during the bhakti period. The Tamil Jainas speak of other similar efforts of persecution, even during the late fifteenth century CE. Similarly, at various points in history, the Tamil Jainas have made conscious efforts to proclaim their distinct identity and the importance of this distinctness. In fact, one of the earliest stories of the ‘negotiations’ of the Jainas is found in their tradition, which involves their acceptance of agriculture as a profession, which involves at least some amount of violence. The story points out as to how Ṛṣabha, the first tīrthankara, introduced four occupations, of which agriculture was one. There are also different kinds, natures of violence and injunctions as to what kind of violence (or how much) is allowed for the householder. John Cort has pointed out as to how ‘a fuller understanding of the Jains’ own understandings of history is essential if scholars are to gain a better understanding of the Jain tradition as a whole’ (Cort 1995). Thus, what one tries to do is to try and understand the Tamil Jain history as they perceive the same, as much as possible, and place it in the historical context of the Tamil country. As a historian, it is essential not to disregard multiplicities of identities. Many of these contexts shaped some of our understanding of history and society, as much as they made us reinstate some of our beliefs while redefining some others. Conflict and contestation was not new to the history of Tamilnadu. While in some cases it was obvious and visible, there were, and are, subtle ‘negotiations’ for communities to survive amidst what becomes dominant and hegemonic in a particular time and context. My movement, meanwhile, had to happen from arupaṭaivīṭu to the Tamil Jainas to retrieve those subtle negotiations and ‘survivals’. How far have I succeeded is, of course, a question. I have also discussed a construct of ‘sites of memory’ as pain sites for the Tamil Jainas, whose constant evoking of the persecution stories is also a means/a ‘weapon’, if you may, to constantly remind the others not to forget. At the same time,

1.1  Why, and How Come, Tamil Jainas?

15

d­ evelopments on the outside, in their environs, also act as constant reminders of their own ‘pain’ and any site of destruction of their identity becomes, again, their ‘pain site’ and a constant reminder of their having become dispensable to the overall history of the Tamil country. The mainstream that was constructed seemed to have been quite heady, bhakti, temple and Carnatic music, all of these completing a fine repertoire. I use the term ‘mainstream’ as critically of the mainstream as possible, not as a spokesperson for it. What I mean here, about Carnatic music, is the manner in which it seems to have become representative (forcibly) of the ‘mainstream’, with even the state advertising the annual December (Mārgaḻi) music festival as a tourist attraction, which it has become. Many scholars and even a few artists and musicians have, at different points, critiqued the mainstreaming of Carnatic music and a dance form such as Bharatanatyam. There is also a misconception about veḷḷāḷas having had nothing to do with music, even if there is an entire community of isai veḷḷāḷars, a comprehensive socio-political history of whom may also throw light on the inclusions and exclusions in the classical music arena. I do not dwell on music, or dance, in Tamil history. But if you ask the Tamil Jainas, they would say that they were forcibly removed from the Tamil music tradition precisely because of this forced mainstreaming, which became the preserve of the brāhmiṇs, even though most of the percussionists—mridangam vidwāns, thaviḷ vidwāns, nāgaswaram/nādaswaram vidwāns—came from non-brāhmiṇ communities. And many of them have charted a different history for their own achievements by going solo in performances. Among Carnatic vocalists, M.  S. Subbulakshmi, M.  L. Vasanthakumari and Veena Dhanammal hailed from isai veḷḷāḷar community. Among dancers, there was the dancer of world renown, Bala Saraswathi, from the Devadāsi tradition. Their respective struggle to attain the stature they did has been well documented. When one talks of mainstream, one is suggesting the manner in which something becomes the dominant and the only visible paradigm there seems to be.18 Lakshmi Subramanian has noted that, ‘A distinguishing feature of the musical tradition in South India was its organisation along lines of caste and gender’ (Subramanian 2004, p. 70). She further points out that: The Brāhmiṇ elite represented in academies and associations, such as the Madras Music Academy, seemed to have the upper hand. The domain of classical culture remained very much with them, a convergence that was fraught with implications for the art form as well as for some of its traditional practitioners… The discovery of music as a new source of aesthetic pleasure coincided with the growing middle class interest in relocating the tradition within a new social and intellectual context… (Ibid, p. 72). [And] for the Brahmin community, consumption of classical music became an integral element in its self-definition, a marker of status and taste, and a cementing agent for a collective identity and presence that had no longer the same visibility in active political life. (Ibid, p. 88)

 Just as the global market defines the mainstream in today’s context or the manner in which the Hindi cinema industry (popularly referred to as Bollywood, which then gives space to terms such as ‘Kollywood’, ‘Mollywood’ and so on) becomes the mainstream.

18

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1  On Reading History, and a Community

The present maṭhātipati at the Melcittamur Jaina maṭham, once in a casual conversation, mentioned how the Tamil Jainas have contributed to the Tamil music tradition, but this is a tradition that has also become distant for the Tamil Jainas themselves, over time. Perhaps there is some truth in it which needs to be probed further. Lewis Rowell writes, for instance, Most of what is known about the musical system of the Tamils comes from their most cherished literary treasure, the Cilappatikāram [The Story of an Anklet], and its two principal commentaries…The Cilappatikāram consists of 5,730 lines in the standard meter of Tamil epic poetry (āciriyam), with occasional excursions into other meters and a few prose passages. It is divided into twenty-five cantos and five song cycles, distributed into three books that represent “the three distinct phases through which the narrative moves—the erotic, the mythic, and the heroic…Some of the passages on music contain extremely detailed information…The Cilappatikāram, like other major epics of the ancient world, existed as a flexible oral text long before it was edited and set down in the form in which we have received it. We do not know the age of the musical system whose details it records. The most that can be said is that the Tamil system apparently arose as an independent tradition… It is generally assumed that the musical system described in the Cilappatikāram and its commentaries evolved directly into the Carnatic musical tradition of modern South India, but that process is no clearer than is the similar process by which the ancient system recorded in early Sanskrit music treatises evolved into today's rāgas and rāga systems… The musical references in the main text and the two commentaries are few and far between, but they are remarkably explicit…. (Rowell 2000, pp. 138–139)

However, even while Rowell says this, there is an assumption (even here) that there was a ‘friction between indigenous Dravidian musical concepts and the Sanskrit system brought in by the new settlers’ (Ibid, p. 135). Whatever the case may be, in general perception, neither the Buddhists nor the Jainas are invoked when it comes to discussions on contribution to the southern music tradition. I also engage with the concept of bhakti, purely in the context of the Tamil region. And it needs to be situated as such; the northern context is quite at variance. And I am not looking at that history. It would be important to not universalise bhakti either, as many scholars have done and continue to do. For the Tamil Jaina community, it seemed to me, it was easier to remember, than to forget. Rather, it is easier to consciously remember than to consciously forget, or to consciously memorise (or build upon) than to consciously erase memories. I was to learn of the Appar and Ñānacampantar stories19 from the Tamil Jainas. Meeting the Tamil Jainas led me to discover an already ongoing, and important, discourse regarding the Tamil Śaivite revivalist politics and Tamil language. Suya Mariyatai Iyakkam (of E. V. Ramaswamy Naicker ‘Periyar’) also had a different kind of importance for the Tamil Jainas I met, which I discuss in the book. This part of Jainism in Tamilnadu was unknown to me until I met these people in the villages.

 I knew their names, of course, and I had read scholars write about them, and I did read historians and other scholars write about the bhakti poetry, but there are some very specific life stories associated with these two, in their hagiographies, vis-à-vis the Jainas. These stories were not part of my growing up, as I did, outside Tamilnadu.

19

1.3  Locating Oneself

17

1.2  Ways of Seeing, and the Title of This Book With due apology to A. K. Ramanujan’s ‘Indian way of thinking’ (a) (b) (c) (d)

Reading history with the Tamil Jainas Reading history with the Tamil Jainas Reading history with the Tamil Jainas Reading history—with the Tamil Jainas

By reading history, I mean, history that I am reading at the same time that I am writing. It is more in reading it in a particular way that you get the kinds of meanings that writing history without reading it you do not. Reading history with the Tamil Jainas is obvious; it is history that is the focus. Reading history with the Tamil Jainas would mean to engage with the community and their memories and perspectives on their past or past in general in which they are actors and agents. Reading history would be important, be it with Tamil Jainas or any other social group or community. So one can deal with this book through any of the above lens and see if it fits any or all or none of these. The effort is to try to fit it into all of these paradigms. This is not a book on Jaina philosophy or its spread in Tamil Nadu. There are other works that have dealt with it in the past. In terms of community, the Tamil Jainas relate to the Dravidian identity strongly. There are also occasions when they distinguish the vaṭa (northern) in terms of habits paḻakkam, while comparing how strict the people from the north are in practising Jaina tenets, and so on. They are different from the southern counterparts, though they are Jaina. So, there is a definite sense of separation between the north and the south.

1.3  Locating Oneself Where do I locate myself? Firstly, since this question has been asked of me before where I shared parts of this research (and since sometimes it makes a difference), I am not a Jaina by birth. But I speak from having had the access to their memories narrated to me as well as from written archives; from their sense of their past and their place in Tamil culture and history. Having walked out of State archives pouring into inscriptional records (which one is expected to), into their homes, helped me understand how minorities get constructed over time and how they look at, and at times, internalise this minoritisation. How they negotiate their spaces and resist possibilities of complete disappearance from all discourse, including history. This they do via memory and constant identification with their pasts; through acts of remembering. Narrating, almost like a performance, their past, of their location and dislocation. Sometimes they hand over pamphlets, booklets, newspaper reports of every

18

1  On Reading History, and a Community

Brāhmi inscription discovered with a Jaina connection to ‘prove’ their antiquity, itself being significant to their self-perception. It is through conversations that I accessed a Tamil (not just Jaina, but also Tamil) past I never knew of in mainstream accounts. I also locate myself in a contemporary period, where history or histories (more so, the former, as in a singular ‘history’ or historical narrative for an entire nation, nation itself being a modern concept) have become contested spaces. One has grown up seeing attempts at different times (including at present) to club identities such as Jaina and Buddhist too, with the ‘Hindu’ merely on account of these religions being ‘old’ and ‘endemic’ to India. Or, on the other hand, there have been attempts to wipe out memories through conscious acts of destruction—of sites and in other ways. But religious persecution and violent suppression were not new in the Tamil Jaina context. They had faced the worst between the seventh and ninth centuries CE from the nāyaṉmārs and aḻvārs (more so, the former) who are deified in temples today. Even in modern times, the impalement of Jaina monks was symbolically celebrated in street processions in Madurai, which the Tamil Jainas protested against through petitions to the government. In the colonial period records, we find mention of this: For the following account…I am indebted to Mr. K.V.  Subramani Aiyar. Sri Gnana Sambandar Svami who was an incarnation of Subramanya, the son of Siva…was sent into the world by Siva to put down the growing prevalence of the Jain heresy, and to re-establish the Saivite faith in Southern India…At the time a certain Kun Pandya (hunchback) Pandyan was ruling the Madura country, where as elsewhere Jainism had asserted its influence…The Queen and the prime minister were Saivite, invited Gnana Sambandar (to extirpate the Jains). He came with thousands of followers and took abode in a mutt on the north side of Vaigai river…Jain priests, 8000 in number, found this out…set fire to his residence. But disciples extinguished the flames…Sambandar made flames take the form of a virulent fever to affect one side of the King’s body, which he cured…The king became beautiful and was called Sundarapandya thenceforth…Books of Saivites travelled upstream and Jains’ books perished; [Post these trials, etc] many converted to Saivites. The number [of those who converted] was so great that the available supply of sacred ashes was exhausted. [Those who could not be converted] were impaled on stakes resembling sula or trident…The events [are]…gone through at 5 of the 12 annual festivals at Madura temple. On these occasions an image representing a Jain impaled on a stake is carried in procession. (Thurston 1909, pp. 435–8)20

The nature of conflict that led to the marginalisation of Tamil Jainas was severe, aided as it was by political patronage and brāhmiṇical hegemony. Then there was the sectarian context in the Tamil country within which we need to locate the textual tradition of the Buddhists and Jainas. What the Tamil Jainas, as a habit, almost, told me—regarding their texts being appropriated by other sects and castes—is a facet that a few scholars have noted. For instance, Charles E.  Gover wrote in 1871…[that] “The Brāhmans corrupted what they could not destroy. The editing of all the books gradually fell to them, because they alone had the leisure and knowledge that literary labour required… This process continued until it was impossible to discover the original… The only copies that I have been able to purchase are as obscure and overloaded with purāṇic superstition as the legend of any pagoda. And the 20

 Emphasis mine. Note that his ‘source for the story’ is a brāhmiṇ.

1.3  Locating Oneself

19

same thing has occurred with all the best Dravidian poetry…” William Taylor in 1835 speaks about Siddha works being “uniformly destroyed” by “the ascetics of the Śaiva class” and adds that they are, by consequence, rather scarce and chiefly preserved by native Christians. When the books could not be destroyed, they—a so-called Dherma Sabha in Madras—“caused to be printed an interpolated and greatly corrupted version, as the genuine work of an author, but maintaining just the reverse as his real opinions”…The whole problem, of willful destruction, ideological interpolations, interference and ‘corruption’ of ancient Tamil texts is a matter which certainly needs further independent investigation (Zvelebil 1992, pp. 46–47)

I also look at marginalisation in terms of significance attached to land grants to brāhmiṇs in historical writing (even when it is critical of it) making the temple paradigm so overwhelming to the Tamil historical past as to negate other counter discourses. These predominant works play out also in contemporary politics. For instance, contemporary government tourist brochures and maps (Tamilnadu) continue to focus more on the Śaivite, Vaiṣṇavite temples than Buddhist and Jaina ones. There are more works on the bhakti bards, and on each of the bigger temples of Tamil Nadu (such as the ones in Thanjavur and Madurai districts), than there are on either the Buddhists or Jainas or their sacred sites. It almost works towards making the official historical memory wipe out some communities, by refusing them subjective agency in the creation of this collective history. How do the Tamil Jainas construct their identity through the language Tamil? In the early twentieth century they were bringing out Tamil books, even those engaging with Dravidian movement streams and with radical political thinker Periyar, presenting their case of alienation from Tamil history as counter to the history of the dominant community intellectuals. Efforts were on to recover or retrieve Jaina Tamil literature from conscious efforts of appropriation by other communities. Even scholars who have dealt with the discourse of language and ideas of the written or speech community have tended to treat of the language of the region as a category only in contradistinction to brāhminised or brāhmiṇical Sanskrit. For instance, Sudipta Kaviraj has noted that the ‘origin of vernacular languages appears to be intimately linked to an internal conceptual rebellion within classical Brāhmiṇical Hinduism…’ (Kaviraj 2010, p.140) He makes this statement in connection with the emergence of the ‘language of transparency and nearness’ exemplified by bhakti Hinduism, as he calls it (Ibid, p. 140). This would convey that there were no discursive processes within linguistic traditions totally outside of the brāhmiṇical, or bhakti, for that matter. The Tamil Jaina community and the language Tamil, in fact, emerged in a totally non-god or non-deity-bhakta relationship discourse. That is to say that the entire discourse happened outside of the frame of the ‘distance’ of the ‘inaccessible Sanskrit’ or the ‘semiotic of nearness and informality’ that Kaviraj has spoken about (Ibid, p. 140). The idiom, the meter and the tone here, in the case of Tamil, and the communities identifying themselves with the language were entirely of a different construct, which must be understood in its depth. At another level the entire idea of ‘vernacular’ as a concept arising as a rebellion against the classical brāhmiṇical Hinduism seems to give a kind of primordiality or

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1  On Reading History, and a Community

primogeniture to both Sanskrit as well as the brāhmiṇical conception of things which then make the other linguistic literary or speech traditions always seem like a response to that ‘original’ which somehow became esoteric and distanced. In case of Tamil, it was the nationalist discourse of building on an illusionary national speech community which converged with the sense of alienation in a caste-based speech and written tradition, Sanskrit of the brāhmins, of an original Tamil speech community that made the insistence on Tamil and, in connection with it, the denouncing of the brāhmin seem like a ‘response to’. But prior to the nationalist discourse, even in earlier moments, Tamil was always the basic framework of expressing ideas that were both esoteric and distanced (to some communities, such as the tribal communities, with their own traditions) and near and accessible in case of those who had been consciously distanced in the process of creation of a hegemony of the temple and brāhmiṇ-centered ethos. The inscriptions of the rock-cut caves and natural caverns, as one found in conversations with the present-day Tamil Jainas, are important to the community only in establishing its antiquity and identity related to the language Tamil—their ‘tāi-­ moḻi’ (mother language/mother tongue)—and the temple inscriptions only figure in their narratives when it comes to establishing the nature of ‘big-time’ support for their doctrine and subsequent changes therein. And it is also true that most of the ancient sites of the Brāhmi inscriptions and places around these are not settled by the Tamil Jainas now. In that sense, there is a deep sense of having been forcibly ‘de-linked’ from their antiquity in Tamil history, which is as much their deep sense of feeling persecuted. The de-linking is from the past of the Tamil Brāhmi records of their past popularity to an existence of relative oblivion in later periods, and the present. The Tamil Jainas do not take lightly the attempts to wipe off their antiquity. A case in point was a petition in the Madurai court by the Tamil Jainas against stone quarrying of Pudukkottai with Tamil Brāhmi inscriptions of the second century BCE.  Of course, the stone quarrying companies didn’t stop the activity for very long. How limited, or limiting, at times, is the study of inscriptions when used as the main, or the only, source of writing history of some living traditions and communities? But without touching these records, one is not considered historian enough, especially of early periods in history, though that trend has changed considerably over the years. How should a historian look at communities and histories of the marginalised? At least in the case of the Tamil Jainas, there are numerous inscriptional records to delve into, and a lot of them have been already documented and written about; but what about those communities who have no such written records? Even if you speak of the Tamil Jainas, having documented all the inscriptional records to affirm their antiquity, what do you do thereafter? Similarly, what do you do with the Buddhist records (the few that are left) and sites (the few remaining, if they are not already converted everywhere, as they have mostly been)? What would these tell you about the people? What about that history which is no longer seen? Or community narratives or history records at homes (where history is) preserved almost with doggedness, lest these get lost, too? Interestingly, the struggle to save

1.4  Two Roads

21

the rock-cut caves and natural caverns by the Tamil Jainas has a lot to do with the Tamil Brāhmi script and, by extension, the language Tamil. The peculiarity of the Tamil Jainas rests on the fact that they are by and large economically, politically and socially on the margins. What one says for them should work for the Tamil Buddhists of a continuous living tradition, if at all someday someone finds them in one of the villages in Tamil Nadu. How did the entire community disappear from Tamil history? Did the entire community of Tamil Buddhists convert, all of them, unlike some of the Jainas who stuck to their religious order? Would someday some chronicler seek out at least a single family of Tamil Buddhists of the ancient lineage? Did all of them leave, en masse, to Sri Lanka? Where did they go? One wonders as to whether these questions bothered anybody? Were they just happy to write about the episodes of persecution and leave it at that, in case of the Tamil Buddhists? When I say Tamil Buddhists, I mean the ones who have had a long history from the early Caṅkam period, and not those who accepted the Buddhist faith as a matter of political choice in the present era.

1.4  Two Roads There is one road, where monuments, literary works and inscriptions are scattered around. If you take this one, you are awestruck at the beauty of the reliefs on stones and cave beds of an era long gone, and you see temples with beautiful architecture which are equally fascinating. On this road, the historical trajectory is usually (as it has been so far) one of origins, rise and decline/fall. But there is another road, where you meet people and living villages with their own agricultural seasons and everyday lives across historical time. What do you get here? Not just a reiteration of the antiquity that you saw on the other road (but of a different kind) but an amazing range of material: a photocopy of a government order issued from Fort St. George by the British government ordering destruction of one HMV record which abuses Jainas, handwritten letters from a certain Kamil Zvelebil written to a prominent Tamil Jaina (T. S. Sripal), some bits about an article called Purāṇa Āpācam contributed to E. V. Ramaswamy Naicker Periyar’s Kuṭi Aracu in one of its earliest issues and some interesting information about the Tamil Jaina engagement with the Self-­ Respect Movement. You get to see an image of Kundakundācārya on a gold coin, an image that never existed in your mind before and you hear a story of Ellis and his tryst with the Tirukkuṟaḷ and that the Kuṟaḷ was authored by a Jaina. You also find a Tamil Jaina Tiruvempāvai composed to a tīrthankara which has been printed from a palm leaf manuscript version found at the Jaina maṭham at Melcittamur; you get songs, pamphlets and several kinds of information that open up new dimensions of engagement with community history and understanding marginalisation of a different kind. It’s like this road leads you to a house with many doors within doors; a house that was never opened before. And you also find all that is happening in the process of a community seeking to preserve its memory or the historical memory or the history of the memory of its being, having been or continuing to be; its

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1  On Reading History, and a Community

minority-­ness (in numbers and in expressions of universality that envelope it) and marginal existence, it seems pegged on. Its minority-ness and marginalisation today reminding it of how far it has traversed and what all transpired, to fling it to this state of being. In the present, as you seek to understand the past, of any minority marginalised community, you see glimpses otherwise lost to the idea of having a ‘rounded­up’, ‘comprehensive’ history. Reading history with the Tamil Jainas is also about how a community is actually preserving its history and reading its history to its own members and constantly telling it to the world, lest they forget. Some communities, and their histories, are constantly facing challenges.21 In the Tamil Jaina case, there is a constant threat to their rock-cut caves and caverns with Tamil Brāhmi inscriptions from the business of stone quarrying, and recently, underground explorations and mining for electricity generation. The people involved in these businesses are powerful and politically influential and that makes it a tough proposition for the small numbers of Tamil Jainas to keep up the struggle to protect their heritage sites which are their sites of memory. For a while, if the activities have been stopped, these may resume in another time. Here is a community that is extremely particular not only about its antiquity in Tamil history but also the historicity of its antiquity in Tamil history. And historicity, here, may be taken to mean sources of history that are tangible, visible and can be ‘proven’ (which the community asserts time and again, like the traditional historian would, regarding ‘evidence’ and data). In a different world, though, when you look for those ‘hard’, stonewalled or documented or scripted evidence of a community’s past, would you be rendering all those without those hard, visible, scripted records ahistorical? Well, this question is for another time. The idea of discussing the Tamil language question came to me from conversations with the Tamil Jainas in their villages. This was not initially part of my study. Their conversations almost always meandered towards Tamil language and literature which was part of their identity. This aspect has been left largely un-explored in earlier studies, especially the place of the Tamil Jainas within the discourse on Tamil language, nation, printing of books, etc. I cannot find the exact reason for this, but it seems to me that this bit within this overall history could only happen through interaction with the community and through their narratives, from homes in the villages where these discussions happen in the present time, also because of their sense of loss and memory associated with the aspect of Tamil literature and language. One also needs to acknowledge that this comes vectored through all the movements (anti-caste, anti-brāhmiṇ, etc.) in the history of Tamil Nadu that the community has been both witness to and participant in. This also comes from ‘reading history’ ‘with’ (the contemporary) Tamil Jainas, a far more critical engagement and more  If not by the unleashing of communal violence on them, then by prevalent universalist ideas of economy and progress, and some histories can well be demolished, for they are inconsequential to these ideas. One can locate demolition of several tribal settlements in the ongoing economic development paradigm, either for dams or for mines in this context. Reserved forests were the older paradigm of un-settling tribal communities in the colonial period. Displacement is not just of the communities, but also their histories and historical location.

21

1.4  Two Roads

23

interesting than a mere perusal of archival records sans community. Why is it important, the idea of language and ‘authorship’ over a linguistic culture—literacy ­canons, etc.? To understand this part, no inscriptional records help. They do not bring alive this aspect of language and identity questions; the Tamil Jaina community narratives do. And these are not strictly ‘oral’ in the sense of being simply told and retold over generations. Yes, they are told and retold over generations, but the tellings are about a written culture, a script, a language tradition they feel they own as much as any other community does in Tamil Nadu (they never ever said they were the sole proprietors of that Tamil linguistic tradition, in any of their narratives, unlike the Śaivite counterparts who claimed primogeniture over Tamil and their antiquity in Tamil land, unlike the brāhmiṇical hold over the Vedas either). They hand you out Tamil books, pamphlets, articles and newspaper reports, which are equally part of an organic history. Emmrich makes a point about the manner in which the Tamil Jainas are perceived: On all sides, the Jains are those who are historically not Tamil although they had an impact on the Tamils, whether bad or good, whether negligible or enormous, and have, although one might disagree as to what degree, made them and their literature what we now know. The perception of their foreignness may be meaningfully connected to three attitudes: (1) since the Jains are non-Tamils, they were good for Tamil literature because they educated, beautified, and improved what the Tamils, by themselves, were unable to do; (2) they were bad for Tamil literature because, by imposing themselves, they temporarily kept the Tamils from preserving their Tamilness; or (3) they are irrelevant for Tamil literature because if we are dealing with things Tamil, like Śaivism, the Dravidian or the Tamil language, we do not need to refer to them. The past tense of the first two attitudes and, above all, the timelessness of the third brings us to the…role, or rather non-role, attributed to the Jains, over which the same kind of pervasive consensus rules as with their non-Tamilness: the Jain as absent. Such a role may be already seen as prefigured in those readings that play down the presence of Jains in Tamil literature throughout its history. (Emmrich 2011, p. 621)

When you read history with the community (via chronicling their perspectives of their past), you begin to ask questions you never asked before. How is a ‘minority’ constructed, or, rather, how is majority constructed over time, which minoritises? Who, or what, is over-visible and who/what is hidden, and why? There is a problem when you hear that Buddhism could not survive in the country of its origin. But it surely thrives in the Himalayan region and in parts of the north-east of India as a living tradition. But the idea of its ‘non-survival’ comes from a majoritarian viewpoint of history, where the largest numbers seem to be the only touchstone for declaring something as ‘true’, and as ‘a (or, the only) way of life’. My PhD thesis was titled Identities in Conflict: Jainism in early Tamiḻakam.22 There was a reason for that title. Because I found several moments in history of Tamil Nadu when different identities were in conflict rather than living in peaceful happy co-existence. They may be individually leading happy, peaceful lives, useful lives, etc., but as communities—with a conscious sense of belonging to a distinct group, which gets asserted at different points of time, for different reasons—many 22

 Doctoral thesis, JNU, New Delhi (2009).

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have layers in their historical consciousness which remind them of their distinct identity which led to violence and ruptures in the past and could lead to the same in the present, as well. Back in the seventh century CE in Tamil Nadu, the Buddhists and Jainas became the ‘outsiders’ who had to be ‘taught a lesson’. Scholars of certain religious persuasions writing on the bhakti even in present times have written about the Buddhists and Jainas as outsiders who corrupted the ancient Tamil culture and language. And some scholars continue to equate the ‘efflorescence’ of Tamil with the bhakti movement and mention bhakti as having ushered in the ‘vernacular’ (in this case Tamil), which was not the case. Some call it a ‘democratic’ movement. Was it truly one? Perhaps there is a need to re-evaluate some theories which have been taken as a ‘given’ and to work on hidden, and relatively silent, aspects instead of the loud and most visible?

1.5  On ‘Community’ For the purposes of this book, I use the term ‘community’ in a political sense, or in terms of the politics of the socio-cultural context. Where members evoke the idea of ‘community’ from a common social history, from a shared historical lineage, shared language and a shared history of the language and their place within it (in terms of their contribution to the language and the linguistic tradition). There is also in the term ‘community’ a sense of difference and distinction from the ‘other’, where the sense of community comes to the fore in times of crises, conflicts, etc., in order to seek ‘citizenship’ (in modern context of constitution and democracy). While I have not dwelt on the idea of ‘community’ in a single chapter or section, I felt the need to let that idea of the sense of community that the Tamil Jainas relate to come forth in the chapters where I dwell on the language Tamil, discourses on the politics of belonging in a Tamil tradition, the idea of history as shared by the community and memory. They seek recognition as a historical subject and agent, which they feel they have not been given. Their collective memory is that of a people wronged by history. The sense of community or the identity question works at different levels: in memory (collective memory), textual tradition, history and everyday practices. I am hoping that all these justify the use of the term community for the Tamil Jainas: Memory, then, of both the explicit, intentional variety and the involuntary or implicit sort makes possible identity as the persistence of the subject (whether individual or group). And in turn that persistence, the enduring character of the community, is part of the ground of an array of duties to remember and not to forget. Memory helps to make possible that persistence (is a core part of that persistence), which is the basis of duties across time, including duties to remember. (Booth 2008, p. 248)23

Another crucial aspect about the subject of this book is the ‘region’ itself, the Tamil country, or Tamiḻakam or Tamil Nadu—each of these terms having its own historical meaning. The latter would be the region carved out after breaking up of Madras 23

 Emphasis on longer sentence, mine.

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Presidency into Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu based on linguistic lines. It is important to recognise, also, that they inhabit a geographical space which is historically one where several groups have asserted a ‘community’ sense, many times fiercely, vis-à-vis the others. It is difficult to imagine a Tamil land without identity conflicts, and assertions, across centuries. It is not about merely how the self is perceived but the self in relation to or in contrast to or with respect to the other, which is significant in the Tamil Jaina case. One would place the stories of persecution within this. They are conscious of their being Jaina as well as Tamil, and each of these categories can be the community: a religious community and a speech/language/linguistic community. In case of Tamil, many times the linguistic category— which is intertwined with the geo-cultural space in an akam sense of it, that is, the eco-space becoming the interior space of language and cultural traditions—overrides categories of caste, class and religion. The most recent example would be the agitation and discourse on ‘Tamil culture’ resulting from the ban on jaḷḷikaṭṭu, the bull race, which was later revoked. The discourse began as an issue of animal rights and cruelty to animals, which began to be interpreted as an attempt to destroy what was considered an essentially Tamil cultural symbol. Here, then, Tamil culture became the prime factor, subsuming various other identities such as caste, class, religion, etc. Of course, there was also a discussion on whether the jaḷḷikaṭṭu discourse really mattered to, or took into consideration, the dalits. This overarching Tamil culture is also evoked by the Tamil Jainas. Here the Jaina identity is closely intertwined with the Tamil (drāviḍa) identity. This book attempts to dwell on the Tamil culture and language discourse in some detail. It is in Tamil that a regional Jaina identity can be said to have been forged. The development and consolidation of a regional identity itself is an interesting phenomenon. Speaking of the ‘regional’, Kunal Chakrabarti has pointed out, in the context of the Bengal Purāṇas, that: An important criterion for the formation of regional identity is the development of the literary language of a region. Adherence to a particular language by a group of people is unmistakably a cultural statement, and it is in language that ‘perceived cultural space and instituted political space coincide’…The evolution of a literary language and a corpus of literature particular to a region must have contributed to a heightened awareness of cultural homogeneity among the people of (a) region. (Chakrabarti 2001, p. 297)

About the development/use of the language of the region by Jaina teachers, Jaini says: Kannada was the most important of the vernacular languages for Jaina Purāṇic composition, and in turn Jaina authors were instrumental in the development of Kannada as a literary language. The “Three Gems” of Kannada literature, Pampa, Ponna and Ranna were all Jainas who wrote less than a century after the great Karnataka Sanskrit author Jinasenā. But whereas Jinasenā and his disciple Guṇabhadra were both mendicants, the Kannada authors were householders. The development of Jaina literature in the vernacular seems to have been a process similar to the development of Hindu literature in vernaculars such as Bengal, Hindi, Oriya, and Telugu. In both cases, educated laity wrote in a language accessible to the broader populace, in reaction to the elite, non-mother languages used by the religious professionals. (Jaini 1993, p.281)

There can be other ways of looking at ‘region’ and community identity, as well. For instance:

26

1  On Reading History, and a Community Geographers commonly recognise that, in terms of the basis for their recognition, all regions may be classified as instituted, denoted, or naively given. Instituted regions are “instituted by human agency as distinctive and discrete units limiting the areal extent of operation of certain functions” (Hartshorne 1965:619), and are generally administrative in nature. Denoted regions are created primarily for the purpose of organising and analysing information, while the naively given region is “recognised as a meaningful territorial entity by the people who live there and/or by other people to whom it is of some concern” (Schwartzberg 1967:89–90)…naively given regions…have their origins in people’s perceptions, in their mental ordering of the world around them…(and) may be considered subjective. (Lodrick, in Schomer, et.al 1994, p.3)

In the Tamil Jaina case, being in Tamiḻakam, or Tamil Nadu, is a given, a priori, while their perception of themselves as a community could be conceptually understood within the framework of a ‘naively given region’. This would give one the scope of comprehending the live dynamics of a community’s relationship with the environment it lives in and engages with, rather than study just one aspect of the community, namely, Jainism (as the only marker, in the universal Jain-ism sense) in Tamilnadu, this modern notion of the state, then being the ‘instituted’ idea. In the latter case, there is no concern with what happens within the community, but only concern with what others (royalty, bhakti bards, etc.) did to the community. However, there might be a third angle to it whereby the community perceives of itself in both the ‘instituted’ when it came to their village and its place in Tamil Jaina history. For the purposes of a historian looking at these concepts (‘instituted’, ‘denoted’, ‘naively given’ regions) inscriptional records, for instance, in this case, would not point to these dynamics and live interactions. But stories, narratives and changes within those might. In this context one is reminded of a point made by Obeyesekere in his study of the cult of the goddess Pattini. He says: Historiography that relies exclusively on well-documented and incontrovertible historical evidence such as from inscriptions must surely be wrong since it assumes that the recorded data must be the significant data shaping history, transforming institutions of people. (Obeyesekere 1984, p. 605)

But of course, like Lodrick later points out: Conceptualisation of regions and the emergence of regional identities reflect processes involving complex historical, cultural and social forces working in a particular geographic setting over lengthy periods of time…. (Lodrick 1994, p. 34)

The larger ‘Tamil’ mythic corpus, or cultural paradigm, needs to be seen (and never seen in scholarship so far) as not necessarily or essentially the merger of brahminical folk but as one with several (many) underlying layers of interactions with such systems as Buddhist and Jaina hitherto mostly considered of ‘non-sensual’ orientation and therefore disenchanted by the popular rituals and traditions necessarily oriented towards the sensual and intimate god/deity/supernatural-human relationships (referring here, particularly to the bhakti concept). In the last case, one must mention an effort made in this direction in the brilliant monograph on the Pattini cult (written not recently but till date used as an excellent document on Sinhala Buddhism) and Buddhism in Sri Lanka by Gananath Obeyesekere (1984). Here Buddhism is shown as using the popular (‘folk’) Pattini cult (Pattini, deified in

1.5  On ‘Community’

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Tamil folk tradition even before she ‘moved’ to Sri Lanka24) making her an ‘eligible’ candidate, so to speak, for Buddhahood. Obeyesekere’s intention is to look at institutionalisation of the cult. And importantly, the goddess Pattini is both a ‘Hindu’ and a ‘Buddhist’ deity in Sri Lanka and both have added to the mythic corpus of this cult, with a central shrine in the Sabaragamuva province at Navagamuva. The cult is supposed to have diffused into Sri Lanka and operated in a cultural context of the Sinhalas. In the Buddhist context she is an aspirant for Buddhahood. However, in the Sri Lankan context, which Obeyesekere analysed in his work, Buddhism is the overwhelming paradigm, and the Buddhist tradition takes a character like Pattini, already by then deified in popular religion, to give her a Buddhist dimension. In this sense, if we look at Nīlakeci (where there is certainly no ritual dimension or religious compulsion involved, most likely), the author creates a whole new character out of an infamous one, giving the character an entirely new dimension. The difference is, however, that unlike Kaṇṇaki, who became Pattini (the goddess), Nīlakeci remains a character bound within a text and does not assume deified status in the Jaina religious system. The intriguing question here (which one is not inclined or qualified enough, yet, to answer/resolve) is ‘why’? What is important here is that Buddhist and Jaina traditions too had been open to influence (and were also influencing) the popular, non-brāhmiṇical traditions prevalent in their time, and it is necessary to recognise these in order to move away from the ‘plot’ (if one may use the term) of brahmiṇisation altogether. For what are referred to as ‘dominant’ and ‘marginal’ (which one also tends to use) traditions, inasmuch as there are historical processes that create them, are also created and reiterated in historical writing and reconstruction—highlighting them at a sustained level to the exclusion of others.25 There are, of course, many identities a person relates to at different points: vocational groups, class, caste, religion, gender, etc. That is a given. But for the purposes of this book, the focus is on a religious community within its linguistic historical paradigm and a regional context (Tamilnadu). Caste, gender and vocation are also addressed, contextually, within the region, the Tamil country. It is important to take into account the regional history or regional context of the religious community in order to avoid the pitfalls of making for a universal history or a monolithic, linear history that nationalistic ideologies have a penchant for. What applies for the Digambara Jainas in Tamilnadu may not for those in other parts of the country; there are regional codes of behaviour, too, and idioms, that need to be accounted for.

 After fifth, before the sixth century CE (Obeyesekere 1984, p.363).  This point is meant as a general observation of the larger trend in most (not all) writing on religion and religious processes. There is no denying the fact that this larger trend has in its own ways sharpened the points of debate and discourse on brāhmiṇical and Purāṇic religious processes. One wishes there were (and there is not) a similar intensity of debate and discourse on Buddhist and Jaina religious processes (within these religions, which are usually seen as fossilised) so far as work on religion in the Tamil country (and these religions) is concerned.

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1.6  Method of Enquiry and Structure of This Book Methodologically speaking, I have sought to read the history of a living community through engagement with the Tamil Jaina people living marginal, and to a large extent hidden lives, with their pasts many times not making it to the mainstream discourse, on account (perhaps) of the overwhelming idioms of social and political culture in Tamilnadu, in spite of its history of having fought those very idioms in the not so distant past. Mine is an effort to shine a torch on the darker corners of history, rendered dark because they have been pushed to corners inaccessible, or difficult to access. There are many such dark corners, and this is not the only one, nor is that being suggested. For the present study, I have chosen this particular corner. Though I have had the urge to let go several times, since the completion of my PhD thesis, some developments in the present times have made me turn back and not let it go without telling this one story for it has not been told before in this manner. When I initiated a study of the Tamil Jainas as a community in the course of my doctoral research, there weren’t works that addressed this living community historically, from the present, backwards. There is a reason for the form this book has taken. It is meant to evoke a sense of taking a walk down memory lane, documenting the people—of the present—living their history. Each person I met, urged me to walk back into the past of the community that he/she wished should be recorded, literally. This sense of people’s history has come to me even from other contexts (where I was not even chronicling community social histories). There seems to be an urgency on part of marginalised (economically, culturally, socially or politically, or in every way possible) people to have their voices heard, recorded, represented or, at least, presented. One could have chosen to simply enlist the names of the villages inhabited by the Tamil Jainas and the inscriptions found there, the temples there, to ‘prove’ their presence or to prove their historically having been, as well as my being ‘historian enough’ (in the course of my doctoral research), but it was important for me to record my movement as a chronicler, past these villages, meeting people with names and faces (which, in a future time, will become ‘history’)—some of whom have already become the ‘past’ today, having died in the meantime—which gives credence to the idea of reading history with a community.26 I did not go expecting what I ended up receiving and recording. I went, as others would have, perhaps, to ‘see’ the Tamil Jaina villages, also seeking monuments, the ‘hard’ ‘evidence’ of history of their having been there, in the past. I did ‘see’ the monuments, of course, and inscriptional records inscribed on those, and I saw the rocks and boulders with similar ‘hard evidence’ (literally). I had also gone to see if the stories of persecution of the Jainas in the past were ‘true’, if they remembered them at all. But, as it happens, I did not ask the first person I met in those villages anything about persecution. I was struck by the fact that there were, indeed, Tamil Jainas still living these memories, in their consciousness, much after the ‘last words’ (as if) had been written about their downfall and they had been written off as a past.  At the same time, there should not be a singular manual of writing a book of history. I have sought to attempt an engaged, sincere and serious tone in a format that may not necessarily fit into a particular genre of writing history.

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The pasts, however, were in their minds, which they seemed to constantly evoke: reliving moments of glory as well as betrayals, suppressions. The grand donations inscribed on temple walls or rocks did not mean too much for their present state of near-hidden existence. The history that they led me to, actually, were also written in Tamil pamphlets, books, booklets, newsletters, English newspaper clippings, books, letters, photographs, testimonials, etc. There was no other format that would do justice to this manner of my finding these pasts (outside of those I had found in archives and libraries and monuments) than to approach it as a journey through each of the villages as a present site, a living site, with people whose histories span several centuries and several generations. This longue durée was not something I expected to present itself to me this way. So, the Chap. (3)—Community Narratives, Inscriptional Records: A Chronicle of Journeys through Tamil Jaina Villages—is of the present, juxtaposed with the past; sometimes the present there does not dialogue with the past at all, and sometimes it does. Many a times, the people were not interested in grand narratives. They were not mythologising their pasts. Their pasts had to have a definite historicity, for which they would produce ‘evidence’: sometimes the monumental ones and at others the written records of various kinds. I wished to understand if the people related to the inscriptional records at all. Juxtaposing inscriptional histories with conversations and community narratives gave a variegated historical account. Sometimes the histories they related to was that of their own village or surrounding villages as a circulatory space. Sometimes it was about an iconic figure in their midst, such as someone who had taken the sallēkhana vratam (fast unto death), in the last 50–60 years, just as the ones commemorated on the Tirunatharkunru rock near Gingee (Cenji). There was more than one narrative of persecution, not just the better-known bhakti period one. Sometimes there was no ‘history’ in what they spoke, for they spoke of what it meant to be a Jaina27: eating before dark, being vegetarian, or doing certain rituals, etc. It was about the present state of being ‘different’ from others for these reasons and also about the present state of economic distress some of them are in. There are several communities in our midst, in general, whose official or state histories are at variance with what they speak of as their histories. These come forth in their narratives and everyday conversations. Going in their midst as a journalist or a historian is not the central point. Recording what they said—which a journalist, as well as a historian can do—should be the case in point. Journalism had taught me to listen to people. People have many things to say. Sieving through it all, one comes to a common thread, sometimes, of the issue at hand: be it poverty, displacement, or dislocated histories. Listening to a lot of people wanting someone to write for them, about them, isn’t as simple as pouring through records in an archive or library, where one is alone with that material. On the ground, sometimes, many people speak at once, the same thing or different things; they agree and disagree. They tell some of the same stories in different versions, or the same versions, in different places, village after village. They tell different stories, too. There one goes without expecting to listen to what one is about to hear, though one does go with questions. In an archive, or library, while one does go seeking a specific record in mind, or an idea of it, one encounters something totally u­ nexpected,  But of course there is a historical element in there, too: what the tradition says a ‘true’ Jaina is and what it has become today.

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as well, which is equally fascinating. Encountering a massive, unfrequented rockcut cave is equally fascinating. There, just the silence speaks to you. But the archival material—the rock—remains in that very place (at least these days, with spaces becoming public assets, like a library or a building), for us to pick up at a later date, unless, in face of an impossible eventuality, it is demolished, and lost to us forever, like the strange case of the palm-leaf manuscript of Valayāpati, here now, and gone next, much to the chagrin of U. Ve. Ca. People do not always remain there to tell you the same story the next time you visit them; sometimes they themselves become part of the history they narrated the last time. So that moment of recording the story (commonly told by many in other places) also becomes history; they too become archives. The moment of recording changes. Spaces change. But in the midst of these changes, some stories remain, narrated all over again like the last time they were.28 As for memories and recording these: Social memory is a form of relational practice, which is located, disparate, and often dissonant in nature. Social memories are composed of the fragmented stories that surround specific places and events; that are passed around within and between generations… It is a realm of controversy, where people actively engage with the past in the present, mobilising memory to interpret present events and relationships and to inform the production of identity and place. As such it has a powerful hold on people’s conception of themselves and their place in the world. (Jones, Russell 2012, p.271)

In the Tamil Jaina case, all their monuments and written records and their textual tradition did not prevent their being rendered invisible to mainstream history, what to say of those communities without written records or monuments? Sometimes, monuments are the memories that communities possess of their past, of course layers added and deleted. Yet they are there. It was to make sense of how history is perceived through these that I chose a format that might represent this fluidity and the constant tussle of the present with the past. But not everybody talks of the past. They also speak of mundane things, always making a point about doing things the ‘Jaina’ way or the right way to be Jaina. Chapters 3 and 4 (‘Retrieving’ and Seeking the Tamil Jaina Self: The Politics of Memory, Identity and Tamil Language) must be read in conjunction with each other, or perhaps as a long sequence of history itself. Images are an important dimension in my work. In order for them tell their own stories, they follow some of the chapters in the book where they seem representatively relevant, preceded by the explanatory notes given at the end of the chapters. But where relevant, I have given reference to the page numbers which the image could be—if a reader wished—seen in conjunction with. That way, the images and what I narrate in the book, may have their own separate (connected to each other or not) ‘moorings’, as it were. The images in this book ‘respond to’ the two main com What I have to say is that it is better to be an engaged journalist, sensitive to multiple histories, multiple communities and pasts in the everyday world, multiple lived realities than an archival historian removed from the real world inhabited by people in real locations, where histories are not just lived but challenged and questioned and sometimes wiped out as an everyday event; one fine day, the religion you are writing about is a mere shadow of what you thought it was; monuments may remain, but may not remain, too.

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1.7  Maps: Mainstream and ‘Tamil Jaina’

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ponents of this book: community narratives and inscriptions and; memory, Tamil language and identity. They are meant to evoke their own meanings as visuals of a community and culture hardly ‘seen’ in the mainstream. Some of the information in the ‘Annexures’ help to locate the region and identify Tamil Jaina settlements and sites, some of which was gathered, over the years, by the members of the community, in their own efforts to document their history. This book, while being largely based on my doctoral dissertation, has taken more time—of dwelling within—than usual29 and further questions, theoretical in nature about its relevance, and retracing my steps back to the Tamil Jaina villages that I visited the first time, besides finding a new one, or two, in the process. The book seeks to engage with the hiddenness of a community, on its marginality to the history and politics of a region, or nation, keeping in mind some fundamental theoretical questions. It might be possible to place any other minority, marginalised community in the place of the Tamil Jainas (while being sensitive to the differences in cultural, political and social contexts in each case) to understand the nature and form of universalising tendencies. I am conscious of the fact that taking ‘by-lanes’, rather than ‘national highways’, is far more revealing of important chapters in several people’s histories.

***

1.7  Maps: Mainstream and ‘Tamil Jaina’ The figures in the following pages are representative of the following, respectively: locating old and new Tamil Jaina settlements on a modern state map (Fig.1.1); cartography of a hegemonic tradition and places (Fig. 1.2); and a community’s own cartography of its old, historical space (though within one modern district, in this case, Tiruvannamalai (Fig. 1.3).

*

 I admit that in my case, an issue I was engaged in, at that moment, seemed far more immediate and crucial to write about: the immediate displacement of over three hundred thousand tribal people and several dalits to a dam seemed far too ‘at once’ than the subtle and overt marginalisation (and dislocation, too, in some senses) from history of a minority community in another part of the country. And hence, I stuck to the idea that the book documenting the former narratives would be my first, because of the immediacy of the issue. Would I have thought differently today? I am not sure. Maybe. Perhaps I could have seen the two as different contexts, each relevant in their own ways historically. But another reason to not publish my thesis immediately was also to do with questions of whether it deserved publication. Today, I have that rare advantage of having followed up on—directly and indirectly, from closer-up and from a distance—a community for nearly a decade; it remains as marginal to mainstream Tamil history as it did when I began work on it. And some of my earlier arguments made in my PhD thesis seem to need no major alteration, based on work done thereafter. If they require it, even then, it is important to let even a ‘dated’ text (if it is indeed one) see light of the day.

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Fig. 1.1  A map showing the Tamil Jaina settlements (shaded areas) corresponding to present-day districts in Tamil Nadu, where the inscriptions record their presence. I thank Dr. Parth R. Chauhan, at IISER-Mohali, for helping me with digitising (as a last-minute request—in early 2016) my map of old and new Tamil Jaina settlements

Fig. 1.2  One of the many mainstream tourist maps of present-day Tamilnadu, showing the prominent tourist places in the state. If one were a ‘general’ tourist or traveller, these are the kinds of maps one would get at stores to plan one’s itinerary. Note a complete absence of Jaina and Buddhist sites of importance. Prominent here are the temples at Thanjavur (Bruhadiswara), several Murukaṉ temples, Madurai Mīnākṣi temple, Tiruvannamalai Śiva temple, Pillaiyarpatti Vināyaka temple, etc. Separate route maps given below, point to the Murukaṉ Arupaṭaivīṭu circuit, a Navagraha circuit (temples of nine planetary deities), etc. Of course a birding site, hill station, a fort, etc. are also shown. Vailankanni Church is the only non-‘Hindu’ site given, but it is no longer a ‘purely’ Christian sacred site

Fig. 1.3 Tiruvannamalai district Jaina Sites (Source: R. Vijayan, Tiruvaṇṇāmalai Samaṇar Vaṟalāru, Neminatha Patipakkam, Jaina Math, Tirumalai, 2011. The book gives a ‘Jaina history’ of Tiruvannamalai district. The present-day Tamil Jainas use this map as a ready reference for their Ahimsai Naḍai [Also see pp. 90–91)]. Names mentioned in the map, in the order of their occurrence (number-wise): Karandai, Tirupparambur, Vembakkam, Culamantal, Velliyanallur, Ceyyaru, Vellai, Naval, Kovilampundi, Arani (Tirumalaicamuttiram), Arani Palaiyam (New), Arani Palaiyam (old),

References

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References Booth, James W. 2008. The Work of Memory: Time, Identity, and Justice. Social Research: An International Quarterly 75 (1 Spring): 237–262. Accessed on 1 July 2014 02:49 GMT. Census of Tamilnadu. 2011. http://www.censusindia.gov.in. Chakrabarti, Kunal. 2001. Religious Process: The Purāṇas and the Making of a Regional Tradition. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Cort, John E. 1995. Genres of Jain History. Journal of Indian Philosophy 23 (4 December): 469. Emmrich, Christoph. 2011. The Ins and Outs of the Jains in Tamil Literary Histories. Journal of Indian Philosophy 39: 599–646. Published Online: 19 Apr 2011. http://www.hindustantimes. com/india/upa-gives-jain-community-minority-status/story-.html. Hartshorne, Richard. 1965. Practical and academic regions. Annals of the Association of American Geographers 55: 619. [Ref. cited by Lodrick, mentioned in this chapter.] Jaini, Padmanabh S. 1993. A Puranic Counter Tradition. In Purana Perennis: Reciprocity and Transformation in Hindu and Jaina Texts, ed. Wendy Doniger. Albany: SUNY. ‘Jeevabandhu’ T. S. Sripal, Samaṇar Malai, Vardhamana Patippakam, Chennai. 1996. [This was donated as a śāstra dānam on the occasion of a wedding, which is mentioned in the book]. Jones, Siân, and Lynette Russell. 2012. Archaeology, Memory and Oral Tradition: An Introduction. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 16: 267–283. Published online: 26 April 2012. Accessed on 8 July, 2014. Kaviraj, Sudipta. 2010. The Imaginary Institution of India, Ranikhet: Permanent Black. Mahadevan, Iravatham. 2003. Early Tamil Epigraphy: From the Earliest Times to the Sixth Century A.D. Chennai, Harvard: Cre-A, India and The Department of Sanskrit and Indian Studies, Harvard University. Obeyesekere, Gananath. 1984. The Cult of Goddess Pattini. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Population Census. 1991. District Census Handbook. Part XII A. Rowell, Lewis. 2000. Scale and Mode in the Music of the Early Tamils of South India. Music Theory Spectrum, 22(2 Autumn): 135–156. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/745957. Accessed 4 Dec 2015 14:27 UTC. Schomer, Karine, Joan Erdman, Deryck O.  Lodrick, and Lloyd Rudolph, eds. 1994. The Idea of Rajasthan: Explorations in Regional Identity, Constructions. Vol. Vol. 1. Delhi: Manohar/ American Institute of Indian Studies. Schwartzberg, Joseph E. 1967. Prolegomena to the study of South Asian regions and regionalism. In Regions and regionalism in South Asian studies, ed. Robert I. Crane, 89–111. Durham: Duke University. [Ref. cited by Lodrick, quoted in this chapter.]

Fig. 1.3 (continued) Arani Putukamur, Cevur, Nettapakkam, Pundi, Mullippattu, Catupperi Palaiyam, Tachur, Mottur, Periya Kolappalur, Peranamallur, Ayalvadi, Erumbur, Tencentamangalam, Venkunram, Calakkai, Vandavasi, Birudur, Cetarankuppam, Kilvillivalam, Nelliyankulam, Nallur, Mudalur, Ilankadu, Ponnur, Vankaram, Kilsattamangalam, Ponnurmalai, Tirakkol, Colai Arukavur, Isakulattur, Tennattur, Manjappattu, Desur, Cittarukavur, Korakkottai, Akarakkottai, Cunampati, Tellaru, Gudalur, Nallavanpalaiyam, Tiruvannamalai (Svetambarar), Tiruvannamalai (Digambarar), Kattumalaiyanur, Malappampadi, Somasipadi, Koppalur, Tacchampadi, Parikalpattu, Odalavadi, Iranderippattu, Kunnattur, Tirumalai [Note: Transliteration avoided for modern place-names, which these are]

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Subramanian, Lakshmi. 2004. Contesting the classical: The Tamil Isai Iyakkam and the politics of custodianship. Asian Journal of Social Science, 32 (1):66-90. Stable URL: http://www.jstor. org/stable/23654687. Accessed 26 Aug 2014 07:26 UTC Thurston, Edgar. 1909. Castes and Tribes of Southern India. Vol. II. Madras: Government Press. Umamaheshwari, R. 1996. Many Images of Murukaṉ: Perceptions of a Popular Deity and the Arupaṭaivīṭu in the Tirumukāṟṟupaṭai. Unpublished MPhil dissertation. Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Umamaheshwari, R. 2009. Identities in Conflict: Jainism in Early Tamilakam. Unpublished. PhD thesis. Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Weber, Max. 1992. The religion of India: The sociology of Hinduism and Buddhism. Trans. Hans H. Gerth and Don Martindak. Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal. (Originally published by Free Press, 1958). Zvelebil, Kamil V. 1992. Companion Study to the History of Tamil Literature. Leiden/New York: E. J. Brill.

Chapter 2

Jaina Studies: A Historical Overview

Abstract  This chapter is in two sections. Section i gives an overview of the scholarly perspectives on Jaina ‘entry’ into the Tamil country in the early centuries BCE, through a perusal of the early inscriptions (Tamil Brāhmi) found at various places across Tamilnadu. Section ii looks at the ‘discovery’ of the Jainas through colonial and oriental writings. A related section looks at the ‘recovery’ of the self through works of Tamil Jainas (such as A.  Chakravarti) writing about their own histories and, more importantly, the need to distinguish the Digambaras from Śvetāmbaras and the important work of scholars such as ‘U.Ve.Ca’ who bring palm leaf manuscripts of the Jaina classics into print form. The early nineteenth century and twentieth century seem to be a busy period in establishing records, the Jainas as a distinct sect. There is a slightly detailed dwelling on the Mackenzie manuscripts in relation to the Jainas. The chapter argues that there was already an awareness of Jainism in the southern and, specifically, Tamil context, through works of Orientalists and the colonial officials. The colonial state, of course, centralises the records and, thereby, community histories, in a sense. The Tirukkuṟaḷ was translated, and Caldwell had identified the Dravidian culture as being a distinct and evolved one, with a specific mention of the Jaina contribution to the Tamil language and literature. Ellis, Beschi and others are names the Tamil Jainas even today remember with respect. The Jainas remember Beschi as Vīramāmunivar. Then, of course, there is a brief detail about the Jaina community asserting their distinct identity (against being clubbed as ‘Hindu’) in law courts, during the colonial period and thereafter. Keywords Brāhmi • Vaṭṭeḻuttu • Mackenzie • Tirukkuṟaḷ • Beschi • Ellis • Caldwell

2.1  J aina ‘Entry’ into the Tamil Country and Early Jaina Epigraphic Records Early Jaina vestiges in the Tamil country comprise of about 26 rock-cut caves or natural caverns and 140 stone beds at the following places: Anaimalai, Alagarmalai, Arittapatti, Muttuppatti and Tirupparankunram (Madurai district) as also in

© Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla 2017 R. Umamaheshwari, Reading History with the Tamil Jainas, Sophia Studies in Cross-cultural Philosophy of Traditions and Cultures 22, DOI 10.1007/978-81-322-3756-3_2

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Vikkiramangalam, Karungalakudi, Kilavalavu, Kongarpuliyangulam, Tiruvatavur and Varichiyur.1 Early Tamil Brāhmi inscriptions have been recorded at Marugaltalai (in Chevalapperi taluk, Tirunelveli district), Anaimalai, Kalugumalai, Tirupparankunram, Arittapatti, Kilavalavu, Karungalakudi, Muttuppatti (also called Samanar Malai), Kongar-puliyangulam and Alagarmalai (all in Madurai district), as well as in Sittannavasal (Tiruchirappalli district), Arachalur (Erode taluk, Coimbatore), Mamandur (Cheyyar taluk, North Arcot), Tirunatharkunru (South Arcot), Pugalur (Karur taluk, Tiruchirappalli), Tiruchirappalli golden rock and Pillayarpatti (Ramanathapuram). Apart from these, Tamil Jaina inscriptions have been recorded in temples dedicated to the tīrthankaras and numerous grants to monastic institutions. Some of these are found in Karandai (Cheyyar taluk, 11 inscriptions), Tirumalai (Polur taluk, around 9 inscriptions), Pancapandavarmalai (Walajapet taluk, 2 inscriptions), Vilapakkam (Walajapet taluk, 2 inscriptions) and Vallimalai (Vandavasi taluk, 5 inscriptions), all from North Arcot district, as well as in Anaimalai (Madurai taluk, 10 inscriptions) and Kilavalavu (Madurai taluk and district, 2 inscriptions). Thirty natural caverns with stone beds—no Brāhmi inscriptions—have been discovered at Pudukkottai, Sittanavasal (of the famous paintings on Jaina themes), and in other places in South and North Arcot districts. However, there are later period inscriptions and sculptures also in the last two mentioned, dating to eighth-ninth centuries CE. Jambai, Parayanpattu and Tirunatharkunru in South Arcot district have caves which were apparently occupied by Jaina monks. Two early Jaina centres with cave beds and Brāhmī records have also been found at Kurralam and Marugaltalai in Tirunelveli district. This being so, the famous Jaina institution, the paḷḷi,2 was also scattered across the districts Tiruchirappalli (named after the famous paḷḷi there) with three paḷḷis in Pugalur, Sivayam and Trichy rock fort and Pudukkottai, North Arcot, Pasumpon and Periyar districts having one paḷḷi each and lithic records. Quoting from the Digambara Darśana, a Jaina religious text, Ayyangar had pointed out that in 526 Vikrama Śaka (AD 470), a Drāvidasangha was formed at southern Madurai by Vajranandi (in inscriptions noted as Vaccananti), a disciple of Pūjyapāda, and also that the sangha was an association of the Digambara Jainas who migrated south with a view to spread Jainism. Ayyangar, taking cue from this information, believes this to have occurred by the end of the fifth century AD. Further, he says that the Caṅkam works indicate that Jainism had not entered the extreme south of India during the days of Tolkāppiyar (350 BC) and they must have colonised and permanently settled in these parts during and before first century AD (Ayyangar 1922, p. 57).3 Early scholars also took the evidence from Mahāvamsa, the Buddhist chronicle (on Buddhism in Ceylon at the time of its introduction) which speaks of Tissa— Devanāmpiya Tissa—second son of Muṭiśiva, and the two chief priests, Mahinda and Aritta, who expressed the desire to spread the tenets of Buddhism in other countries, for which they were granted permission. It is assumed that the Pāṇḍya country should have been one of those they visited. The Pāṇḍya country and Sri Lanka are  I have avoided using transliteration marks for modern-day place names.  In course of time, the term came to mean a school, in Tamil, and also, interestingly, mosque. 3  Cited in the Journal of the Bombay Royal Asiatic Society, vol. XVII, p. 74 1 2

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believed to have had close relations, considering another mention in the Mahāvamsa, whereby Vijaya, the son of Sihabāhu, ruler of Lāṭa in Gujarat, is supposed to have wedded the daughter of a Pāṇḍyan king. The caverns in Marugaltalai (Tirunelveli districts) with Brāhmī inscriptions and similar ones at Madurai (dated third century BCE)—at Anaimalai, Alagarmalai, and Kongarpuliyangulam—are believed to suggest their occupation by Buddhist monks in an earlier period and later by Jainas after being abandoned by the former (Subramanya Ayyar 1911). Ekambaranathan says that Jainism in Tamil Nadu must date prior to the second century BCE. The Patiṟṟuppattu (a Caṅkam work, eulogising chieftains of the line of Cēra kings) 2:42–56, mentioning the Iṟumporai kings (a collateral branch)—also mentioned in Brāhmī records—also talks about Jaina monks (Ekambaranathan 1989, p. 31). Two Brāhmī records from Pugalur (Tiruchirappalli district) give the genealogical list of these kings. Among these are Iḷamkaduñko at whose anointment to the throne, an abode was built for the Jaina monk Senkayappar of Yarrur (Ibid, p. 31).4 Mahadevan, through his longest research on Tamil (and Brāhmi) inscriptions, notes that: The Tamil Brāhmi cave inscriptions [are] now known to be the earliest Jaina records in South India…The paleography of the cave inscriptions is consistent with borrowing from Magadha in ca. 3rd century BC during the Mauryan age…Out of the 30 sites with 89 Tamil Brāhmi cave inscriptions [which he included in the Corpus] 28 sites with 84 inscriptions are Jaina and the remaining 2 sites with 5 inscriptions are secular, that is, having no apparent religious significance…[So far as the Vaṭṭeḻuttu inscriptions are concerned5] out of 12 sites, with 21 inscriptions, only 4 sites with 12 inscriptions are Jaina…. (Mahadevan 2003, p. 128)

Indra—the important deity of the Jainas, as well as Buddhists—is also frequently mentioned in the Caṅkam anthologies (Hart 1975, p.  69). Puranāṉūru and Cilappatikāram both make reference to vaṭakkiruttal (sallekhana or fast unto death), practised in the Jaina tradition. Purananuru, the collection of poetry refers to the practice of fasting unto death. Vadakkiruthal is the terminology used for the practice. A poet named Kazha athalaiyar (Purananuru – 65) [writes about it]. The great Chera emperor Cheraman Peruncheralathan and the Chola emperor Karikal Peruvalathan went to war against each other at a place called Venniparanthalai. The Chera emperor was wounded by a spear that pierced his body from front to back….[This was] considered…a humiliation and the Chera emperor undertook fasting to death (Vadakiruthal)… A poet named Kazha athalaiyar documented it... [The] Chola king, Koperunjcholan, ruling from Uraiyur declared war on his sons who had revolted against him. He was pacified by poet Eyitriyanar and made to realise the sinful act of waging war against own children. The Chola ruler abandoned his throne and undertook fasting unto death by “vadakkiruthal” tradition. On hearing this, his friend and poet, Pisirandaiyar also commenced the performance of “vadakkiruthal”. (Purananuru – 212 to 223). Koperunjcholan who was also adept in poetry expressed his emotions reflecting Jaina thoughts. [Those] who do not have the right faith without blemishes of doubt and without a strong mind, start performing the meritorious deeds. Those who aim for elephant will find it, those who aim for small bird may go empty handed!  See AR 342 of 1927–1928. Transliteration marks as mentioned in Ekambaranathan.  He is referring to the ones he included in his Corpus (2003).

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2  Jaina Studies: A Historical Overview …Silappadigaram, the Tamil epic of post Sangam period (2 CE) has a reference to the practice of Sallekhana. Kavundi Adigal, a Jain sadhvi, observed Sallekhana and left her mortal body on hearing about the tragic death of Kovalan… Earlier she had accompanied Kovalan and Kannagi in their epic journey from Chola country to the Pandya country… There is a tradition of performing annual Nischadi Puja to Acharya Akalanka at Munigiri Karanthai Jain temple near Kanchipuram…. It is believed that Acharya Akalanka observed sallekhana at Munigiri Karanthai. (Rajendran 2016)6

Hinting at a possible Jaina influence in early Tamiḻakam, Hart writes: In Puṟanāṉūru 214, Kopperuñcōḻaṉ, who is about to commit suicide by ritually starving himself to death, speaks of “an outlook stained by impurities” and says that dying with a body free of evil is important, an attitude that suggests influence of Jainism. (Hart 1975, p. 70.)

Further, he notes that: In Puṟanāṉūru, 214, he [Kopperuñcōḻaṉ] addresses his comrades, evidently to persuade them to join him. His words indicate he was influenced by Jainism… “If more men with lofty aims receive reward for a portion of their good acts, they may experience delight in the eternal world. If they do not experience delight in that world, they may not have to be born again. And if they are not born again, it is crucial that they die with bodies devoid of evil, establishing their fame like a Himalayan peak”. (Ibid, p. 89)

The tribes and communities—that the early Jaina teachers or monks and nuns might perhaps have interacted with in the initial periods—as are mentioned in the Caṅkam anthologies and their correlates at present in these regions are noted to have been, variously, the weaver, pastoral-nomadic, basket-weaving, hill-dwelling tribes surrounding Tirunelveli, Kongu, Madurai, North and South Arcot regions. The Maravans, Yerukulas or Koravas (the tribe Vaḷḷi, Murukaṉ’s lover, is said to have belonged to), Agamudayar, Muduvar, Valluvar, etc. were tribes propitiating deities such as Murukaṉ (Subramaṇya), Koṟṟavai, Māl and so on. There aren’t, to one’s knowledge, many studies on the early interaction of these tribes with the Jaina monks who preached in regions of these communities, whose deities were gradually assimilated into the Purāṇic, brāhmiṇical fold. It may be a question to ask if these tribal groups accepted a religion that stressed on non-killing, especially when their own deities were happy if propitiated with animal sacrifices, now and then, and with a god concept of possessing, divination and other rituals, so antithetical to the Jina doctrine. Speaking of the influence of Jainism on the Tamil social milieu, Palaniappan writes: That Jains included among the Caṇḍālas people who were not untouchables in the Tamil society ca. 9th century CE is indicated by the earliest Tamil lexicon, Tivākaram (ca. 9th century CE) authored by Tivākarar, a Jain, who includes kavuṇṭar along with pulaiñar among Caṇḍālas. Today, the caste title Kavuṇṭar (also spelled as Gounder) is used by many dominant upper caste groups that include Vēṭṭuva Kavuṇṭar who, as indicated by their name, must have been hunters originally. This indicates the basis on which Jains considered a group to be ‘base’. The lifestyle of a hunter which involves killing of animals is anathema 6  Quoted verbatim (including certain spellings used in the original article); original has no transliteration marks. No page numbers in the original. This was a paper presented at a conference in Chennai in 2016, on Death and Dying. Interestingly, there has been a lot of debate in mainstream media on the Jaina practice of sallekhana in the recent times, with the Jainas urging that it not be equated with the other legal discourse (in India) on euthanasia and its ethics.

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to Jains for whom non-injury to other living beings is a cardinal principle. So it is not surprising that the Jain perspective would include a pulaiyaṉ/pulaiñaṉ, who sacrifices animals, in the category of the Caṇḍāla too… There is no reason to suppose untouchability or caste practices existed in the ancient Tamil society. That Brāhmiṇs in ancient Tamil country would not hesitate to take up funerary priesthood involving cutting of the bodies or priestly ritual for the leather drum indicates there was no occupational pollution associated with it by the Tamils… An important finding resulting from the lack of notions of occupational pollution or untouchability in the Classical Tamil society is that it also affirms the lack of the notion of caste in that society. (Palaniappan 2008, pp. 31–32)

Incidentally, Gounder is also among the caste titles (Mudaliyar, Chettiar, being some of the others) that Tamil Jainas have, as I have been informed by them. I mention this point in later sections. Based on his study using ‘Tamil philology, epigraphy, Jaina texts, anthropology,7 and Dravidian linguistics’ (p. 53) Palaniappan concludes that: In the Tamil country of the early centuries CE, Vedic Brahmins acted as funerary priests for warriors cutting the corpse before its burial. They also most probably served as priests worshipping the battle drum made of leather. If there was any notion of ritual pollution associated with these activities in the Tamil society, Brahmins would not have chosen to perform them. So, there is no evidence of any indigenous Tamil notion of occupational ritual pollution at the time. Jain mendicants considered a Tamil priest (pulaiyaṉ) to be a base person destined to go to hell in his next birth and called him ‘iḻipiṟappiṉōṉ’. They also considered a hunter to be destined to go to hell and called him ‘iḻipiṟappāḷaṉ’. Thus ‘iḻipiṟappiṉōṉ’ and ‘iḻipiṟappāḷaṉ’ referred to future births resulting from the karma of killing other life forms according to Jain beliefs. They did not signify low caste status in this life. The Dravidian linguistic phenomenon of ‘o’ > ‘u’ alternation led to a folk etymology attributing ‘baseness’ to ‘pulaiyar’ (